Teens Genes Smithereens
by everyl1ttleth1ng
Summary: In the year that has passed since Peter and Gwen last spoke, Spiderman has won the trust, not just of the police, but of the entire city. Out of the blue, Gwen appears to ask Peter an unexpected favour that will embroil them both in the chaos about to strike New York City. Will the fight against evil stand in the way of getting a decent set of prom photos?
1. Chapter 1

Spiderman crouched serenely in the glare of several trained spotlights on the uppermost tip of Oscorp Tower. It had been a good year for the spandex-clad human arachnid. An impeccable capture and arrest record had won him the favour of the NYPD and cleared much of New York's seedy subterranean of its criminal element. On a number of occasions, the masked vigilante had been required to surreptitiously deliver formally-worded apologies in lieu of his appearance at various official gatherings held in his honour and a small bank of medals were building up for him in a glass case in the foyer of the city courthouse. Each evening he simply let himself be seen in this same spot, maybe intervened in the odd escalating domestic or opportunistic mugging, and then disappeared into the night. Spiderman was at the top of his game, the toast of the city.

Behind the mask, as always, hid the somewhat bored Peter Parker. Tonight he half-heartedly mused his way through a massive questionnaire community-mindedly posted up on the enormous billboard opposite by Mental Health America.

_Do you feel sad or irritable?_

There were significant people missing from his life. At times it really got him down.

_Yes._

_Have you lost interest in activities you once enjoyed?_

He thought fondly of his skateboard, his camera and portfolio, his school work, his pre-college internship at Columbia, his web-slinging, nabbing the bad guys.

_Nah._

_Have you experienced changes in weight or appetite?_

Even a year later the novelty of his super-masculine physique still showed no sign of wearing off. He drew his consciousness yoga-style on a tour of his spider-enhanced form. More weight? Increased appetite?

_Yes._ Surely he could clock off and get some dinner soon?

_Have you experienced changes in your sleeping pattern?_

He'd more or less exchanged sleep for some sort of spiderly circadian rhythm - a daily pattern of activity and inactivity. It came in really handy while he was studying.

_Yes._

_Do you have feelings of guilt?_

Those people missing from his life. He felt guilty about two of them in particular every single day.

_Yes._

_Are you unable to concentrate, remember things, or make decisions?_

He thought with some satisfaction of the adulation Spiderman received from the police these days, the key to the city in "his" glass case and his awesome final grades.

_No._

_Have you experienced fatigue or loss of energy?_

If anything, he was itching for some action.

_No._

_Have you experienced restlessness or decreased activity noticed by others?_

_No._

Aunt May and his teachers and his mentor at Columbia could all attest to the constant flurry of activity that passed for his life. Peter liked to keep himself busy these days.

_Do you feel hopeless or worthless?_

This one gave Peter pause. On the one hand, all those achievements. On the other, no joy, no lightness of being. Was this hopelessness?

_Maybe a half._

_Have you had thoughts of suicide or death?_

At least this question was a no-brainer.

_Nope._

He tallied his score. Four and a half.

_According to Mental Health America, five or more yes answers indicates that you may be suffering from clinical depression._

"Great," murmured Peter imperceptibly. "All we need is a giant insect in spandex on the edge of a breakdown."

Peter noticed the blinking of lights of a squad car below and pitched himself effortlessly off the roof of the tower, free falling into the urban sprawl below. At almost the last minute, he shot out a web to halt his descent and angled himself around to land silently, cat-like, on the roof of the vehicle.

"Spiderman. Automatic teller machine ram-raid in progress. 13th and Lennox."

Peter nodded and shot a web into the ether, swinging himself around the block in a perfect arc. As he flew, he fired webs into the faces of the perpetrators. He almost admired their plucky spirit for giving this a go right under his nose.

Within an instant it was over, the money secured, the would-be thieves tied up and in the capable hands of the police who, in this instance, as in many others, had been relegated to the role of Spiderman's personal staff. He tried to avoid speaking to them as much as possible, just offering a minimal salute, almost a doff of his cap, before sailing off into the night sky.

* * *

Aunt May, who had adjusted to Peter's mystifying evening routines and staggering appetite, had gone to bed and left him all but her small slice of a giant lasagne. Peter warmed up as large a piece as could be contained on a plate and shoved in the microwave and padded upstairs to his room with it, fork in hand. He plonked himself in front of his computer and began clicking at one of his latest images as he shovelled the food into his mouth.

Mid-mouthful, he felt as much as heard his phone vibrating against the surface of his desk. His eyes widened as he read the text.

"Itsy Bitsy. I've got my eyes on you right now."

Before Peter even registered the familiar but long-absent symptoms of the fight-or-flight response, he had shot a web at the light switch and thrown himself back against the wall, out of the sightline of whoever watched him from the street. The pounding in his chest and veins and head intensified. What if they had surveillance in his house? In his room? He craned his neck to peer cautiously down onto the street. He baulked.

There, directly under the streetlight, was, well, some kind of mirage, a hallucination. Was he even awake? A new physiological response kicked in, not entirely dissimilar from the panic attack that was just abating.

.

* * *

.

_Oh my goodness. I just realised that, for all that time, it said "actions" instead of "action" - I'm appalled and sincerely, heartily, deeply apologise! Please forgive me. For those of you reading this for the first time, pretend you didn't just read that. It's been perfect this whole time ;)_

_Also, I'm not in the US, so it's possible that I'm spelling stuff oddly for those who are. I've tried to embrace the North Americanisms as much as I can, coz, after all, Spidey is obviously a citizen but, it doesn't come naturally at all - so go easy on me!_


	2. Chapter 2

His phone buzzed again, another text, dimly lighting one side of the room. _Peter, it's just Gwen. I guess that text must have freaked you out. Wow, you must have deleted my number. Maybe I should just go?_

His breathing was still laboured as he forced his fingers to steady themselves enough to type. _No. Stay there. I'm coming down._

He peered back out the window to look at her again. She stood looking straight at him but he knew he was obscured by the dark. He quickly patted himself down to work out what he was wearing. The sweater was fine, he'd throw his jacket over the top, but he quickly kicked off his sweat pants and slithered into his jeans, jamming his feet into his sneakers. He took one more peek before heading down the stairs. "Far out."

Gwen stood under the streetlight in the midst of her own fight-or-flight response, trying to process the information that Peter had callously deleted her number. Granted, they had had no direct contact, or indirect contact for that matter, for a full twelve months, but she had never stopped _thinking_ about calling him.

The front door opened and Peter emerged. He turned to shut the door quietly behind him, then, exactly as Gwen had imagined, he shoved his hands deep into his pockets, throwing his shoulders forward and upwards into his semi-permanent shrug. It was text-book Peter. He watched his feet til he reached the kerb, flicked his eyes left and right as he stepped onto the road and only then, as he crossed the street, did he look her full in the face.

In her daydream earlier that afternoon, he'd walked purposefully, straight towards her, his eyes smouldering. He'd completely invaded her personal space, taken her gently but firmly in his arms and kissed her tenderly and passionately.

As the real Peter approached, she realised how unlikely it was that her daydream sequence would come to fruition. He stopped a good distance from a conservative estimate of the edge of her personal space and characteristically ruffled the hair on the back of his head. "Hey."

"Hey, Peter. How are you?"

"Uh, good. Yeah, I'm good." He paused. "You?"

"Yeah, I'm ok."

Peter was beginning to look even more uncertain. "Good."

"Look, Peter. I'm here to ask a favour."

"Ok," said Peter, shifting his weight to his back foot and looking relieved that she'd taken up the burden of creating conversation.

"Did you even know that there's a school dance coming up? The Winter Formal?"

"Mm? No. No, I didn't know." Suddenly a light of recognition dawned. "Oh, you… You want me to take photos? Sure. When is it?"

Gwen shook her head. "No, Peter. No, I'm not here to ask you to take photos." She paused and took a deep breath. "Look, I know we haven't spoken at all in ages but you can probably appreciate that I've had a pretty rough year."

Peter looked intently at her for a moment and then nodded, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

"Well, my mom has been kind of worried about me recently. The other day I had a couple of free tracks after lunch so she decided to take some time off work to pick me up and take me shopping." She rolled her eyes. "Anyway, she talked me into trying on dresses and we ended up finding this really beautiful dress and, well, she bought it for me to wear to the formal."

Peter caught himself smiling at the idea of Gwen trying on dresses. She noticed and took heart.

"So, I'm going to the formal for my mom, and I'm going to wear this beautiful dress that she bought me, but as I was thinking about it, I realised, well, you know me, Peter. I don't really have friends at school. I mean, I have colleagues at work, and I have classmates, obviously, and lab partners and that kind of thing but I couldn't really imagine what I'd do at the dance. I want to go for me too, not just for my mom. So, I was trying to think of a way that I could go to the formal for me. And the only thing I could think of…" she lowered her eyes to focus on Peter's sneakers, "was if, maybe… if I could take you as my date." She paused without looking up. "What do you think?"

She waited a while and then slowly raised her eyes to see Peter grinning like an idiot. She smiled back and cocked her head quizzically to one side. "That was _not_ the facial expression I was anticipating."

Peter laughed. "Well, I'm feeling pretty chuffed, actually,"

"Chuffed?"

"Wouldn't you feel chuffed if the best girl in the school asked you to the dance?"

Gwen looked amused and unconvinced. "You still think I'm the best girl in the school?"

Peter nodded vigorously.

"So," she looked searchingly into his eyes, "You wanna go?"

He nodded again, steadily meeting her gaze, his warm smile unfading.

"Awesome." Gwen felt herself beaming. It was a long-forgotten sensation. "Well, I guess I'd better get going."

Peter quickly took a step towards her. "Can… can I walk you home?"

Gwen was surprised but pleased. "Sure."

The walked a little way in companionable rather than awkward silence. Eventually, Peter asked, "Gwen, have you ever been to a school dance before?"

She grinned sheepishly. "Nope. Have you?"

"Nope." He paused. "I'm guessing, well, I'm guessing I would wear, like, a suit or something?"

"Yeah," she looked slightly worried. "Sorry about that, is that going to be ok?"

"It's gonna be fine, if you don't mind doing _me_ a favour?"

Gwen looked curious.

"As it turns out, I've got a few things coming up that I'm going to need a suit for. You know, some interviews and things like that, and, well, now that you need me in a suit too, I was kind of hoping I might be able to talk you into coming with me to help me find one? I'm really not a shopper. I have no idea where to start!"

Gwen almost laughed out loud. She was incredulous. Peter, who had not let her get close enough to say so much as "hi" in twelve whole months, had, in the space of fifteen minutes, agreed to be her date to the dance, offered to walk her home and now he was lining up what was sure to be at least a few hours of suit shopping.

"I'll shout you breakfast before we start to make it worth your while," he went on and Gwen had to turn her head away to hide her reaction. So he hadn't grabbed her and kissed her, but she was willing to see how this bundle of next best things would pan out.

.

* * *

_._

_._

_Ok, so I can assure you that I am not in high school, but this story reminds me a lot of one that I wrote all those years ago. I've taken a superhero and planned to send him out shopping!? If this is already not your cup of tea then, I sincerely apologise, but I plan to up the (attempted) awesomeness later, and this was just a device to write a little scene that I kind of liked the idea of and that little scene will be coming later. I'm struck by the teenager-ness of them both and kind of wanted to muck around in that little pond. If you like what you've seen so far and have even the vaguest inkling that you might read another chapter were one to appear, I'd love you to drop me a little review and let me know that! There are SO many other things that I really should be doing..._


	3. Chapter 3

Later that night, as Peter resumed his habitual vigil atop Oscorp, he found it almost impossible to give off the still and serene vibe that he'd spent the last few months perfecting. He replayed the evening's events in his mind from the cold-fear he had first felt, then his shock at the totally out-of-the-blue appearance of Gwen. He didn't get much further than remembering the way her hair perfectly framed her face when he sensed the flash of sirens below. As he swan-dived from the precipice he counted not one but three squad cars in motion, in pursuit of a couple of black-clad motorcyclists. He slung a web out horizontally to catch a sturdy looking aerial about a hundred feet away and postured himself more aerodynamically to swing out across the city before his next web gained purchase of a building nearer the scene of the chase. From the ground, bystanders began pointing up into the sky as Spiderman launched himself through the air, a blue and red rocket overtaking the bikes. He sprinted vertically up the side of a mirrored skyscraper and aimed his web in such a way that, as he swung out, he circled the block and pointed his blistering descent at the fugitives. He shot a web at each biker and almost immediately a third web back into the night sky, and though no one below could be quite sure how it happened, the bikes crashed riderless into dirty snowdrifts, while Spiderman blazed through the city, at about the height of the 23rd floor, dangling two restrained and screeching individuals in his wake.

As had become their custom in cases like this, the nearest police station had a couple of officers waiting outside to take care of the bureaucracy now that Spiderman had done his part. They were often keen to shake Spiderman's hand and attempted to engage him in conversation but Peter remained politely monosyllabic and got out of there as fast as he could. Rather than return to the roof of Oscorp where he felt he'd need to stay still, Peter shot another web into the sky and toured the upper edges of Manhattan, as far as the skyscrapers and building sites could accommodate him. With his body occupied by activity that ran on instinct rather than conscious thought, his mind was free to focus on other things. So, he was going to his first school dance. And he was going with Gwen – his desert-island, all-time number-one, super crush – as her _date_.

In fact, he knew he was deceiving himself with this crush business. When he had a crush on her, his radar for her was perfectly-honed. She'd walk into the cafeteria and he'd almost automatically turn his head to note her presence. Of course, he would never acknowledge that he'd noticed. For the first few years of their acquaintance he suspected that his vocal-chords were conspiring against him. He wondered whether she might casually refer to him, should she ever actually refer to him, as "that mute kid in Bio." Sometimes, while the crush lasted, he might spend a whole hour of English watching the side of her head from the seat just diagonally behind her. Should he ever get to class and miss out on that seat behind her, he'd spend the hour engrossed in the heady fantasy, and he was sure that it _was_ pure fantasy, that it was her turn to have her eyes on him.

Since those days, things had changed. Now he was a half-spider superhero and people he had tried against all odds to save had died in his arms. And he didn't have a crush on Gwen any more. These days, he was utterly, uselessly, all-encompassingly in love. He no longer had a radar for her. He simply heard her, sensed her, felt her near, long before he could see her. He no longer dreamt about what it would be like to be with her. Instead, he had a constant ache in his body that was the ravaging aftermath of having had those few short weeks to hold Gwen, laugh with her, call her, confide in her, kiss her. And while, as Spiderman he'd been having such a triumphant crime-fighting year, Peter had been forced to hear, sense, smell her approaching, not just at school but anywhere he was, and immediately get himself elsewhere before he could see her and run the risk of her seeing him and perhaps reaching out for him.

He had resolved that he would never again go to her window, never risk drawing attention to her like that, and the easiest way to avoid doing that was to avoid being within fifty paces of her. Had he not been in love, he might have caved, but because it _was_ love, because there was something unselfish in the way he cared for her, he had been able to and stay away. Until tonight, that is, when she just went and showed up at his door and he chucked all of his resolve away.

Captain Stacey had obviously projected a different future for Spiderman. Anyone with any opinions on this sort of thing would have said the same. They expected nemesis after nemesis to keep on appearing until one by one they'd wear Peter down, take from him the ones he loved, corrupt him, or simply kill him. But the world in which Peter found himself now was one in which, despite everyone's expectations, the actions of a single, thoughtful, committed citizen had changed it all around. If twelve whole months had gone by in which Spiderman had been constantly in the public eye, was that the point at which Peter could start to think that maybe the enemies Captain Stacey feared weren't ever going to materialise?

Peter let his mind wander towards the question that he had always steered himself away from. If not Gwen, then who? Who could he possibly love and at the same time knowingly endanger? And if there was to be no one at all for Peter, what kind of an existence could he have? He had never been the kind of guy who'd wanted to hook-up with strangers and then walk away. Perhaps it was all the things he'd longed for as a child, but Peter imagined his future happiness in very specific terms – there would be vows, a life-long commitment, one woman he would love for always. And there would be children. Children that he would never, ever leave alone. Could any of that hold together with his other life as Spiderman? The last year had begun to give him confidence that maybe it could. And he had to face the fact that though that future woman in the white dress was as yet undetermined, he only really knew how to love the one girl.

Gwen had always invited the risk. She knew what she was getting into. She knew her father's dying wish was that she stay clear of Spiderman. And she knew that Peter was committed to keeping her out of danger. Yet she wanted to be involved. Peter had kept as far away from her as he possibly could but she found him and, of all things, asked him to the dance.

Gwen was the most intelligent person he knew. She had more than proved herself the night Dr Connors was arrested. Had it not been for her quick-thinking and impossible courage, who knows how that night would have ended? While Peter had pleaded with her, even ordered her to leave Oscorp Tower, she had stayed on to evacuate those inside and to cook the antidote that finally brought an to end it all. Had he lost her that night, Peter didn't know what he would have done, but, almost worse, what if she had obeyed his "order" and stayed safe? Peter wouldn't have even recognised the city that he was swinging through. She was the one who had saved all those lives.

As he stretched out his arm, aiming his next web towards a crane that extended over the docks, he heard a strangled cry from far below and scanned amongst the shipping containers to see where the sound had come from. He somersaulted downwards and scrambled silently along the top of an enormous red cargo-hold, with all his senses attuned to the slightest disturbance.

He heard a faint whimpering right below him and dropped, flattening himself against the corrugated steel surface. He peered over the edge of the container and saw a big guy dragging a semi-conscious woman deeper into the dark and more concealed centre of the industrial park. Without a sound, Peter shot a web up to the crane above him and soared almost along the ground to tackle the man and grab the woman from out of his grasp. Reaching the top of the next container, Peter lay her gently down on the roof.

"You're safe. Stay here, I'll be right back," he whispered to the woman before zooming off to catch her attacker. In his shock and confusion, the big guy hadn't managed to get very far. He stumbled about, obviously affected by alcohol, as if trying to find the girl that he imagined he must have somehow misplaced. Peter wasn't going to wasted his time interacting with this low-life. He fired web after web around his captive binding the guy's arms tightly to his body and securing his body uncomfortably to the side of the shipping container.

"I'll be back for you in a minute," he menaced from above as he swung back to the girl. Peter's first priority was to ensure that she was still breathing. Once he was certain, he gathered her into his arms, and shot off towards the nearest hospital.

The hospital staff were surprised to say the least to see Spiderman sprinting through the doors of the ER with a battered and bruised young woman in his arms. The nurses ran forward to begin the triage process and once he was sure she was in good hands, Peter backed away, making his excuses. "I'm going back to fetch the guy who did this to her. Call the local police station ahead of me and let them know I'm coming."

Peter returned to the scene to find the perpetrator cursing loudly and struggling against his bonds. He marched straight up to him, drew back his fist and struck, enjoying the sensation of his knuckle against bone.

"Easier to carry them when they're unconscious," he muttered to himself in justification as he hoisted his quarry across his shoulders.

After everything had been taken care of, and the police knew all he could tell them, Peter again leapt into the sky, reflecting bitterly on the amount of times in the last year he had been forced to intervene in situations where a man had pressed, or completely exploited his advantage over a woman. He knew that the media and men in authority offered meaningless advice to women about watching what they wore or how much they drank. Women, sacrificing their freedom in order to say safe. Men, getting away with everything just short of murder because "boys will be boys". He was sick of it.

He thought of Gwen. He knew that, though young, she was smarter and stronger and more capable that almost all the men he knew. Her father may have had the authority over her to restrict her liberties for her own good. Peter did not, nor did he want any authority over her. He didn't want to make her choices for her. She knew how to handle her own calculated risks. In the joyous freedom of flight, Peter had finally found a resolve. From now on, Gwen would be free to do what she chose, even when it came to him.

.

* * *

.

_So, we reach an impasse. A Mexican stand-off, if you will. It would seem that no-one is liking my little story and I feel utterly demoralised. Not one teeny little bit of reviewing love? Not a speck? Look how lame I'm being with the hints here people! How is a person to justify carrying on writing Spiderman fanfiction in the face of the tumult of actual life when they're three chapters in and not even one person has reviewed? _

_Ok, or worse, this little rant is a cry into nothing but empty space - no one is reviewing coz no one is reading! And that makes me El Pathetico Numero Uno. So, as per the impasse mentioned above (and it's really possible that I'm about to find out just how pathetic I am here), I'm not gonna post any more of the almost three thousand almost-ready-to-go words that come after this unless I get a bit of a sense that this is a worthwhile venture. "She'll cave," you may say to yourself, if you even exist, now that you've read this story and not reviewed it. "There'll be more." But no! Now that I've gone and thrown down this gauntlet, it's an issue of pride! I will not be backing down! The three-thousand-ish remaining words I mentioned will stagnate unfinished in my word processor, the will-they-won't-they speculation will draw to an extremely unsatisfying close, and my version of Gwen and Peter will retreat into the back-blocks of my imagination only to perhaps be dragged to the surface again when I'm no doubt in therapy later in life. "No reviews!" I'll mutter to myself, over-and-over, rocking back and forth while they try and find a vein to dose me up with something potent. "No reviews!" Do you really want that on your conscience? ;)_


	4. Chapter 4

As arranged, Gwen walked into the obscure little side-street café that Peter had described. To her surprise he was already there, far in the back, in his horn-rimmed specs, scribbling notes in the margin of a dense looking tome. She'd made no noise but the instant she set foot over the threshold, Peter's eyes were on her and he was beaming.

Seeing him in daylight, up close, after seeing him only at a distance for so many months, she was struck by how much older he looked. It was abundantly clear to her that all Peter had seen and been through in his life, especially in recent years, had made him a man. She knew almost nothing about him these days but the warmth with which he greeted her gave her the sense that he might not be too reluctant to open up.

He looked uncharacteristically dapper this morning. She realised that, apart from the specs, she didn't recognise even one article of the clothing he was wearing. The dark pants he wore weren't suit pants, but they weren't jeans either and they seemed to be a perfect cut for him. He had teamed them with a cream shirt, and a green woollen v-neck sweater, just the right shade for his eyes. Over that he wore the most perfect dark brown leather coat, but it was the on-trend pointy brown leather shoes that really stumped her. She had always admired Peter for his many excellent qualities but she would never have thought to say that the boy could dress.

"You look _good_, Peter." Her tone suggested both her surprise and approval.

He grinned. "Thanks, so do you."

As she sat down she felt the warmth from the open fire in the corner nearest to them and slipped her scarlet wool coat off her shoulders and over the back of the chair.

While she looked at the menu she glanced up to see Peter, red-faced and grinning bashfully, obviously being silently congratulated by the friendly waiter on sitting across the table from someone like her. In almost no time, perfect warm-brown ceramic vessels of creamy espresso were placed in front of them along with steaming omelettes. They got stuck into their breakfasts.

"Peter, I never got to ask you about those interviews you mentioned. Is this college stuff you're sorting out?"

Peter rested his cup on the saucer in front of him and smiled wryly. "I guess we've got a bit of catching up to do."

She nodded, looking at him from under her long lashes as she raised her cup to her lips.

"So, all year I've been working for this biologist, Professor Graeme Hardy, at Columbia. He's employed me as a pre-college intern. He seems really keen for me to apply to the Columbia Advanced Science program. I'm seriously thinking about it, I really enjoy working with him." Peter laughed without humour. "It took me a while to be sure he wasn't going to turn into something dangerous."

They both sat in silence for a minute.

"But he hasn't?" Gwen finally asked lightly and the tension dissipated.

"Not so far," he grinned.

"Wow, Peter, I love that it's going so well for you. The Science program at Columbia looks amazing. I guess… I guess you want to, umm, stay close to home?"

Peter realised she was referring to his life as Spiderman and nodded. "What about you? Have you decided what you're going to do?

"I'm going to stay in the city too. Oscorp have given me a really generous scholarship. There'll probably be some great opportunities in the future if I keep working with them while I study. Actually, Columbia is one of my options too, probably my favourite choice." She paused and smiled slightly. "It'd be nice to think we might run into each other on campus."

Peter grinned. "Mmm."

"What are the other options you're interviewing for?"

Peter looked at her for a moment but didn't reply. Eventually, he spoke. "Would you think I were crazy if I were thinking about art school?"

Gwen shook her head emphatically. "I'd think you were crazy if you _didn't_ think about art school. Your photos are amazing."

Peter looked relieved. "Thing is…" he paused. "Thing is, I kind of need your permission to submit my portfolio."

She looked confused. "My permission? You have it! Why do you need my permission?"

Peter smiled sheepishly. "I'll have to show you later but, long story short, all my photos are of you."

Gwen opened her mouth and then closed it again. "I don't remember you taking any photos of me."

"Yeah, that's why I'll need your permission. They're just shots I took around school this year."

She paused. "This year? We haven't seen each other all year, Peter."

Peter looked down at his coffee. "_I've_ seen _you_ all year."

Gwen began to see the promise of a light, fun day with Peter disintegrating into what could only lead to angst. She knew they needed to wade through the angst at some point but it had been a long time since she'd just had fun. She determined to snatch victory out of the jaws of defeat and smiled brightly. "Ok, well, suffice it to say, I'm keen to see these photos. You done with breakfast? Shall we find you a suit?"

Peter paid for the meal, squirmingly enduring the raised eyebrows and encouraging pats on the shoulder from the waiter. It became apparent that Peter was a bit of a regular and the waiter's enthusiasm for Peter turning up with her reminded Gwen a little of the restaurant scene from _Lady and the Tramp_.

So she now knew where Peter's cash flow was coming from. It was nice to get a sense that Peter was being so enthusiastically courted by Columbia. Though she never saw any evidence, she got a sense that, when he wasn't saving the city from the forces of evil, or apparently stalking her with a camera, he was head down in his school work. As she stood behind him at the counter she couldn't stop herself from looking him up and down once more. This was an incredible outfit. A year ago he would have looked like a little boy dressing up in his dad's… She looked again at Peter's clothes. Though they were completely on-trend, she'd heard her mum say it enough times to get a sense of the truth of it – everything old is new again. Peter hadn't gone shopping, he'd just unearthed his dad's, or maybe his uncle's wardrobe. She assumed he must have been required to wear business casual some days while working at Columbia and his ensemble easily outdid that of the best dressers among the young men she worked with at Oscorp.

As Peter exchanged his last few lines of banter with the waiter, Gwen pictured him, on his own, opening his uncle's closet, trying to find a business shirt and being overwhelmed by his memories. Peter turned towards her to head out the door and before she'd fully registered what she was doing, she'd slipped her hand into his, reaching out for him in the emotion she imagined he felt in the scene in her head.

Peter ducked his head to look into her eyes. Her expression was unreadable – was she on the verge of tears? Yet she smiled at him so warmly that the completely unsubtle thumbs-up from his friend behind the counter couldn't even embarrass him.

Peter and Gwen walked hand-in-hand into the cold air of the New York street. After the warmth of the open fire, they both reacted to the chill and Gwen, still seeing Peter in her mind standing in front of his Uncle Ben's closet, broke her hold of his hand and slid her hands inside his jacket, pressing her face against the warm wool of his sweater. He immediately responded, wrapping his arms around her tightly and they stood together in the cold, warm in one another's arms.

"I've missed you, Peter," Gwen whispered.

He didn't speak but pressed his warm lips to her forehead.

Simultaneously, a particularly icy blast of wind rushed down the alley and an outrageously loud wolf-whistle sounded from inside the warmth of the café. Peter laughed and shivered. "Wanna get moving?"

"Sure," Gwen replied, though she didn't really want to go anywhere. She let him let her go and he took her hand again as naturally as if he'd never got out of the habit of reaching for it.

"Where to first?" Peter asked as they headed up the alley.

"How's your budget?" Gwen asked.

Peter grinned and ruffled his hair. "Let's just say it's healthy."

.

* * *

.

_Aha! So pleading and weeping and tossing aside my pride is the way to squeeze the love out of you! Just found out I'm moving house in three weeks so I thought I'd jump on and respond to the kindness of strangers by posting this finished chapter up pretty quickly, but I have to say, I'll be needing some more encouragement to be able to find the time to get ch5 up here any time soon!_

_Thanks so much to those of you who have reviewed. Finding those little emails in the dark corner of my email account where I keep my fanfic notifications gave me such a buzz this morning! You're really reading my story! And some of you are even liking it!_

_Up until some of the dialogue in this chapter, I've imagined all of it as if performed by A. Garfield and E. Stone, who, to me, are the embodiment of awesome right now. I'm in love with the pair of them. I feel like some of their conversation here is a little bit too clunky but I hope you can all forgive me. I'll try to do better next chapter. In fact, I like the next chapter. That scene that justifies the shopping element, that happens in the next chapter. I hope you'll like it. But like I said, I'll need the encouragement if I'm gonna be able to get it finished any time before next Tuesday!_


	5. Chapter 5

Gwen liked to think of herself as someone unmoved by the superficial. She believed that the way a person looked on the surface had just as much power to mislead as it did to inform about what lay beneath. With Peter she already knew that on the inside there was a brilliant mind, a tender heart and a desire to leave the world a better place than he had found it. So she gave herself permission to put aside her suspicion of the superficial and embrace the fact that the only man she'd ever found entirely attractive was emerging from change rooms looking significantly enhanced in his attractiveness by one splendid suit after another. She boldly took each opportunity to walk right up to him and smooth his lapel or adjust his tie and despite the fact that there was a lot of fiddling about with tiny buttons every time he pulled the curtain across, Peter was thoroughly enjoying himself. In each suit, he would stand and have a look at his reflection. With Gwen standing next to him, sometimes with her arm linked around his, sometimes lifting a stray thread from his collar or tucking his tie more precisely under his jacket, he could have bought every suit.

The first time he had walked out of the change room, the expression on Gwen's face as she had slowly looked him up and down, had given him a sense of the power of a good suit. No woman had ever looked at him with quite this same pink-cheeked intensity. He was a science nerd, a bookish type, hiding away behind his camera or in the darkroom, riding his skateboard from school to the library, to the labs at Columbia and back home again. As a biologist, he would have found this phenomenon an interesting one to document had it not been Gwen who was the subject, exhibiting classic symptoms of desire, and himself the object of that desire. All he knew was that whatever aura it was that a good suit helped him exude, Gwen could barely keep her hands off him.

Eventually, emboldened by more of Gwen's pink-cheeked intensity, Peter saw and immediately took an opportunity to turn the situation to his further advantage. Gwen had been wandering back and forth from the shop floor to the cubicle curtain to hand him things or ask him what he thought, always ready to simply stand back and admire him as he emerged from behind the curtain. He was mid-way through buttoning the last shirt he was prepared to try on when he heard her voice right next to his ear.

"Peter, is there anything else you want me to get for you? Anything else you need?"

Without a word, he flicked the curtain aside, grabbed her around the waist and pulled her into his arms, kicking the curtain back across behind her. She stood and blinked at him for a moment but before she could even laugh or exclaim, he had pressed his lips to hers and she threw her arms around his neck in enthusiastic response.

In the moment, Gwen was conscious of three things:

1. Peter's kisses were the kind of kisses that one got lost in. Before, she used to laughed to herself about what she thought of as the "Reverse Narnia Effect." While years could go by in Narnia, almost no time went by on Earth. With Peter, it was the opposite. In what had felt like perfectly reasonable amounts of time snuggled up somewhere with him, classes were truanted, work-shifts were missed and the sheen on both their excellent reputations as hard-working, dedicated and responsible young people was ever so slightly dulled.

2. This kiss – because she had so missed this closeness, this warmth, this intimacy with Peter – brought with it the full knee-buckling, heart-speeding, body-tingling force of every other kiss the two of them had shared since that very first time he had pulled her to him on her rooftop.

3. Peter was the one doing the kissing. The Cold War had ended!

A good few minutes of catching up on lost time came to a sudden halt when a particularly officious sales assistant popped his head in to see if he could be of any help. After a few red-faced moments of extricating herself from the cubicle, Gwen admitted, from safe on the other side of the fabric, that the first suit he had tried on was pretty much perfect.

Peter attempted to sound exasperated. "What were all those other suits for?"

Gwen defended herself laughing, "Well, I had to make sure, didn't I? My whole high-school prom experience is in jeopardy here! Doesn't the success or failure of that determine my future happiness?"

A box of cufflinks hit her in the back of the head.

"Ow!"

* * *

May Parker had to admit that she was enjoying her semi-retirement. Ben's life insurance had paid the remainder of their mortgage and, though she yearned for him every single day, she was enjoying in a bitter-sweet way, seeing in Peter such a clear picture of Ben when they had first met. Peter was a combination of the best in his uncle and father. His sheer twitchy physicality evoked so many memories of Ben before he matured and, as she thought about it, she realised that even that twitchy greenness in Peter was giving way to something deeper and more measured.

She lay half-dozing on the lounge, looking out the window onto the street, a crumb-dotted plate and empty tea cup on the floor beside her. People-watching had always been a favourite past-time of May's. She had come to particularly love the exact spot in which she now lay because it provided a perfect vantage-point for watching the relative bustle of her suburban street while obscuring her from eyes that might want to look in at her. She chuckled over the hairstyles and outfits, wondered about the topics of intense conversations and half-smiled and half-ached over the couples in love.

Through her half-closed eyes, May watched one such young couple making their way towards her. Their bodies were so inclined toward one another that she wondered how they managed to keep moving forward instead of just collapsing in a heap. Between them they juggled a few of those cardboard and rope carry bags that marked themselves as being from an exclusive-looking boutique.

As they drew nearer, May began to assume that she must be dreaming. Surely she was watching herself forty years ago, hand-in-hand with Ben? She sat up, eyes wide open, and peered through the curtains at them. They were laughing so hard at something one of them had just said that they had shuffled to a stop. The young man suddenly dropped the bags he carried with an exaggeratedly dramatic gesture and scooped the girl effortlessly into his arms. As their lips met, the young man snaked his hand up into her hair, and her white woollen beret fell to the ground freeing a cascade of blonde hair. May shook her head as if to clear the cobwebs – she wasn't asleep, and this obviously wasn't her and Ben, yet they were tantalisingly similar.

Suddenly, it dawned on May. Had she been holding a cup of tea, she would have dropped it. Somehow, this gregarious, affectionate, romantic young man was her pensive, introverted, monosyllabic nephew. She looked carefully at the girl and recognised her as the one who had come to the door all that time ago. May was stunned. She knew that Peter was good at keeping secrets but she had never suspected that this was what he had been keeping from her all this time. His general mood around home was not at all in-keeping with what she was seeing now as the two young people finally broke apart and Peter set her down only to stand and stare soulfully into the girl's eyes.

May supposed that now, having walked Peter home, she would see the young woman depart into whatever existence she led when she wasn't continuing this furtive relationship with her nephew. Yet the two of them didn't separate, turning instead to walk together up the steps to the house. May sat bolt upright, brushing the imaginary crumbs from her shirt and quickly grabbed up the remains of her afternoon tea to head for the cover of the kitchen.

"Aunt May?" Peter called as he led the girl through the front door.

"In the kitchen, Peter," May called back, hurrying her glasses on and pretending to be absorbed in a cookbook.

As she sensed them enter, May looked up to see Peter beaming at her, his arm wrapped around the waist of the extremely pretty girl who was smiling just as broadly next to him.

"Um, Aunt May? This is my…" Peter looked down and to his right, seeking the eyes of the girl. "Um, my girlfriend?" She shrugged happily and nodded up at him. "This is my girlfriend, Gwen Stacey."

"Girlfriend?" So May's assumptions were wrong. She smiled warmly and extended her hand towards Gwen. "It's lovely to meet you, Gwen." She raised an eyebrow at Peter as they shook hands. "I'd love to say that Peter's told me all about you, but I have to admit, this is a bit of a surprise. A lovely surprise – but definitely a surprise."

Gwen grinned. "If it helps, I think we could say that it's all come as a bit of a surprise to Peter too."

.

* * *

.

_Thanks to the lovely people who have reviewed my story. For reals, if it weren't for you, this little venture would be dead in the water. I know that just means that you would have clicked on the next link, so no great harm done, but it's been nice for me!_

_And now it is my great pleasure to introduce the "Choose Your Own Adventure" element of _Teens Genes Smithereens_. Drop me a review with your preferred option and why (See? I'll stop at nothing to get reviews, there is no low that I won't stoop to!):_

_1. It ends here. I dutifully got them back together, we got a bit of a snog - I'm free to move house in peace. (This is kind of the default setting.)_

_2. Thanks to your overwhelming encouragement I commit to attempting a weekly update of similar fluff and we should eventually get to an end._

_3. You give me permission to walk away from this for at least eight weeks, accepting the inherent risk that I may never be able to bring myself to return, and I formulate an actual plot. Like a real for real suspense-and-everything plot. _

_And I give myself over to the wisdom of my audience..._


	6. Chapter 6

May Parker was having a fantastic afternoon. She could say, without any hesitation, that she genuinely liked Peter's first girlfriend, though she'd heard that mothers and mother-figures sometimes found these encounters trying. She felt especially predisposed to like Gwen because May saw that it was this new relationship that afforded her a glimpse of the Peter she'd lived with and loved before the death of her precious Ben. In contrast to the Peter who often thumped around the house, looking like he bore the weight of the world, Gwen's Peter was playful and light. And, to May's surprise and delight, it seemed that all her hard work had paid off – with Gwen, Peter was the absolute model of modern chivalry.

Gwen had expressed a desire to see Peter's room so he'd dashed up the stairs to tidy up. In his absence, May availed herself of the opportunity to pry. "So," she whispered conspiratorially, "am I allowed to ask how long you've been interested in Peter?"

Gwen smiled and reddened but confidently met May's eye. "I've always been interested in Peter," she whispered back. "But earlier this year I saw him step in to save another boy from being picked on in the playground and that's when I became _really_ interested."

Aunt May, clasped her tea towel to her chest and her eyes grew moist. "Oh, Gwen, take it from me. It's both a blessing and a curse to be attracted to a hero."

"I'm sorry about your husband, Mrs Parker," Gwen offered quietly. "My father was a hero. He died last year too."

In a moment of common grief, May placed her hand gently over Gwen's and the two women looked at one another through the tears that welled in their eyes. Though she could never have said it to May, Gwen's thoughts turned to Peter. How would either of them live without him if the worst were to happen?

"Gwen?" Peter called down into the silence. "It's safe to come up now!"

"You go, darling," May smiled through her tears. "I hope he's managed to find a clear spot on the floor for you."

The older woman squeezed Gwen's hand again and then let it go as Gwen rose to her feet.

"It was really lovely to meet you, Mrs Parker," she said earnestly.

...

Gwen stood at the bottom of the stairs for a moment to compose herself. As she lifted her eyes to ascend the stairs she saw Peter smiling sadly down at her.

"You ok?" he whispered as she drew near enough for him to take her in his arms.

Gwen nodded into his shoulder but seemed to hold onto him more tightly.

"Well, you might be comforted to know that at least my room is really tidy now," Peter offered weakly, taking her hand and leading her through the door.

Gwen looked around but didn't seem to take anything in. She sat pensively on Peter's swivelling desk chair and stared at the New York Times website that he had open on his computer screen. Back at her scowled the podgy face of an opulently dressed business man and prominent public figure, the subject of the lead feature article.

"I really do not like this Anthony Abbott guy," she mused absent-mindedly, turning to face Peter. "I don't think North Americans really need to be encouraged to hoard their personal wealth, do you? We seem pretty good at that already. Doesn't anybody read Alexis de Tocqueville anymore?"

Peter perched himself on the corner of his bed. "Anthony Abbott gives heaps of money to Oscorp," he pointed out. "And I'm pretty sure that he's the most generous contributor to the work we're doing at Columbia too."

"It's not what he gives that worries me," Gwen replied flatly. "It's the people he's trying to keep money from."

Peter nodded. "Yeah, did you read that speech he gave where he called for all the homeless shelters in the city to be closed? It's almost like he believes that if you weren't born into wealth and privilege you'd be better off not to have been born at all!"

Gwen didn't really seem to be listening. Peter waited.

Eventually, she met his eye. "Help me understand something, Peter."

He nodded.

"Sometimes I feel guilty about having so much."

Peter grew visibly confused but Gwen continued. "Sometimes I feel guilty because there are so many people in the world with so little, but I have this great education, a stable family and, up until recently, a great childhood. I always have a wardrobe over-flowing with clothes, I have far more possessions than I even know what to do with and I have never even known what it's like to go hungry."

Peter nodded slowly but was obviously baffled. She charged on. "When people would ask me for money as I passed them on the street or in the subway, I would agonise over whether or not it was the right thing to ignore all my dad had drummed into me about staying safe in New York and get out my wallet or just keep on walking." She paused. "So a few years ago, when I started earning money at Oscorp, I came up with a new plan. Every morning as I got dressed, I'd get out my wallet and intentionally place a five or ten dollar bill, or even a couple of them, in an easy to reach pocket." She glanced at Peter to see him nodding hesitantly, his brow furrowed.

"I want to be intentional about helping people," she explained. "But on a much larger scale, every day when you get dressed, you put on a red and blue suit under your clothes. Every day, you leave this room with the intention of using what you've been given to help others."

"Hang on," Peter interrupted. "I thought we were talking about Anthony Abbott."

"No, Peter. We're talking about you."

His brow remained furrowed as he waited to see where she was heading. Gwen was quiet for a while, staring into the middle distance. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet and subdued. She turned her palms upwards on her knees as if in appeal. "Peter, sometimes I forget. Sometimes I don't have any cash in my wallet… Sometimes I save whatever cash I have to buy myself a coffee on my way to school." She lifted her eyes to meet his. "But you never do that, do you." It was a statement rather than a question. "Every morning when _you_ leave the house, you put on your suit under your clothes. You do it because, the minute you hear somebody scream or hear the sound of sirens, you want to be ready to help. You'll drop anything you're doing to come to the aid of someone that needs you."

Peter shrugged without nonchalance. "What do you want me to say, Gwen?"

They looked at one another in silence.

Finally, Gwen responded. "Where would you draw the line?"

Peter said nothing but as she watched him she saw the shutters coming down.

"If you heard sirens right now," she paused as if listening, "would you leave?"

He nodded almost imperceptibly.

"What if we were really fighting?"

A slight smile played at the corner of his lips. "So we're not really fighting now?"

Gwen looked for a moment like she was going to rebuff his lame attempt to lighten the mood. He took a chance and, with a web around the base of his desk chair, wheeled her sharply across the floor towards him until they were knee to knee and almost nose to nose. She couldn't help smiling.

"If it helps," Peter offered airily, "I wouldn't run off without a kiss."

Gwen sighed, resigning herself to Peter's extremely seductive attempt to derail her serious line of questioning. "We're going to talk more sometime," she murmured against his lips and she felt him nod his agreement. She loved the way that Peter always brought his hands tenderly to her face as he kissed her, the way he stroked the line of her jaw with his thumb.

She felt herself slipping into that familiar, wonderful time vortex when they heard Aunt May's voice float up from below.

"Peter, will Gwen be staying for dinner?"

"Want to?" he asked her.

"Do you think it will work out?" Gwen asked uncertainly. "You won't get called away? That would make you're aunt pretty suspicious."

"I'll take you with me," Peter grinned. "We're nutty teenagers. Honestly, nothing would surprise Aunt May after living with me all this time!"

"Ok," Gwen nodded.

"OK!" Peter bellowed.

They barely heard Aunt May's "Lovely!" as she wandered back towards the kitchen.

The moment lost, Peter reached behind him and rifled through his bag. He handed her a thin brown leather binder. "Wanna see these photos then?"

Gwen took the book tentatively. "Right, so this is lots of photos of me. Sounds fun!"

"Yeah, but it's art, right? These aren't like yearbook photos!"

"Ok," Gwen laughed. "But if it helps, I'll be thinking about you as the photographer rather than me as the subject."

Peter seemed to nervously fold in on himself as he watched her open the portfolio. The first shot was breathtaking. In the midst of the bustle and motion that she recognised as the school hallway, he had captured her in perfect clarity, moving through a shaft of sunlight that shone through the skylight above. It looked as though he must have been right there with her to get the shot but, as she'd said, she had no memory of him taking any photos of her.

"Peter… Wow," she whispered.

"Keep going."

She turned the page. This shot was taken of the school bleachers at the homecoming game. Again, everything was activity and flurry but Peter had managed to find her in the centre of the commotion and somehow take the shot of her face in such a way that it isolated her from everyone around her. Her head was turned up and to the left and as Gwen followed her own gaze in the photo, she saw that Peter had perfectly captured her looking up at a pure white pigeon in flight above the chaos.

She turned the page again, so entranced by the poetry of Peter's photographs that she almost forgot that he sat across from her. The next shot was taken looking across at the vast expanse of weathered and cracked brickwork on the side of the bus depot across the street from the school. Gwen was the lone figure leaning against the wall in the bottom right corner of the shot, dwarfed by the enormous structure. Her satchel lay on the ground at her feet and she stood erect but held her hands to her face. It was an essay on grief.

The fourth photograph was a close-up of her face. Gwen sat alone and she could see enough of her surrounding to recognise that she was under the tree in the centre of the school quad. She was reading a novel with a green cover. Though she could only see the corner of the book, she recognised it as Marilynne Robinson's _Gilead_. This was only a few weeks ago. Peter had managed to catch her at a moment when a tear sparkled on her cheek and yet she was smiling beatifically. The dappled sunshine lit the teardrop and her glistening eyes and the lights in her hair.

The last photo was the most recent. A line of girls from school stood waiting for the bus. As if he had posed them on purpose, Gwen's blonde hair and scarlet coat made her pop out as the one vital creature against the backdrop of her dark-haired, dark-clothed classmates. Her expression was serious and sad and her eyes were downcast, seemingly focused on a spot on the ground a few feet in front of her.

Gwen couldn't find the words at first.

"What do you think?" Peter asked nervously.

"I really thought that you didn't pay any attention to me all year," she whispered.

Peter smiled sheepishly. "Do you get it now? You had all of my attention all year. You always have."

.

* * *

.

_Sorry for the wait! Thanks to those lovely people that reviewed - this is for you! And you may just spy the hint of a plot forming - I'm excited. But the removalists come tomorrow so I'd better get that over first. Hoping for no horror typos! Please don't forget to leave some reviewing love if you like anything about this chapter!_


	7. Chapter 7

Flash was beginning to wonder how his week could get any worse. On Monday he had allowed himself to be co-opted into the Midtown Science Winter Formal Committee in the hope of getting a date with Cora, a cheerleader he had found notable for a range of her physical qualities. By Tuesday he had found that not only was the committee mind-numbingly dull, no amount of hot on Cora's part could make her remotely fun to be around. In Wednesday's boring meeting he had been charged with spending Thursday afternoon helping Cora plan the seating arrangements. She giggled and winked at him across the table. He thought about putting out his eye with the nearest sharp pencil. As the sun went down on Thursday, the last table setting was being labelled and the hope of escape began to glow on the horizon, Cora drew his attention to the last couple who had purchased tickets. Gwen Stacey was taking Peter Parker. Though he grudgingly admired Parker these days, he had retained the tenuous hope that one day Gwen would be his. Flash couldn't hold the headdesk in.

The other members of the Midtown Science Winter Formal Committee were not the sort of people who ever gave a moment's thought to either Gwen Stacey or Peter Parker other than to tick off with satisfaction the complete list of student formal attendees. They were consumed with loftier concerns. Between them, the committee had managed to pull in every one of their parents' contacts and Cora had secured the attention of no less than Mr Anthony Abbott himself. As a result, this year's formal had become an extraordinarily big deal.

Due to Abbott's generosity and the string-pulling of one of his low-level flunkies wielding the power of his big name, the students would convene under the domed glass roof of the City Courthouse affording them a view of the towering buildings and the night sky. They would be served exotic dishes that were almost guaranteed to cause teenagers to turn up their noses and they would sway, probably awkwardly, to the haunting melodies of The High-Highs performing live. Some of the girls practically swooned in anticipation of watching a romantic snow-fall on the glass dome above while they danced in the warmth beneath with whichever jockstrap they had managed to secure for the evening.

Peter found himself unable to resist getting a little sucked in to the anticipation around school. He never saw himself as being that kind of guy but there was something about the tantalising promise of the night with Gwen on his arm in her beautiful dress. Having her back in his life had given him a distinctive spring in his step. Even seeing her around the corridors at school and being able to approach her and take her hand was like so much freedom after a long confinement. And he'd been watching her quietly for a whole year, so he knew that things felt different for her too. She would wink at him if she saw him pass by outside her classroom, and he saw her smiling and laughing more in the two weeks leading up to the dance than he had seen in the previous twelve months. The closer the dance came, the more his nervousness was replaced by excitement.

At one point when they almost collided in the corridor as Peter left his biology class and Gwen emerged from Physics, they had to stand aside as the officious lab assistant wheeled a trolley full of brightly-hued substances into the hall ahead of them. After a quick glance into the vacated prep room, Gwen grabbed Peter's hand, slipped into the tiny lab and yanked him in behind her, kicking the heavy door shut with her boot. The cupboard of a room forced them to be pressed right up against one another.

"Umm, hi?" Peter laughed.

Gwen was unapologetic. "Well, you're refusing to come to my window these days, so how else is a girl to get a little alone time with her superhero?"

Peter grinned. "Can I just tell you how much I am loving the fact that I just got pulled into a prep lab by Gwen Stacey?" He tilted his head back as if reminiscing. "I was never even creative enough to daydream this happening!"

"Did you really used to daydream about me as much as you claim?"

"Um, Gwen, when you say 'used to', what precisely do you mean?"

Gwen laughed, winding her arms around Peter's neck "We better get on with the kissing before Mrs Glasson gets back."

Peter revelled in Gwen's soft lips, in her arms around his neck, in holding her close, in the fact that this dream scenario was happening to him. His every nerve ending tingled, and Gwen's embrace warmed him in so many more ways than the merely physical. He couldn't get enough of her presence, her touch, her lips. He felt one of her hands pressed flat against the small of his back and the fingers of her other hand winding up into his hair. He pulled her more tightly against him and kissed her more urgently. She responded with enthusiasm and just as the kiss reached the highest point of its intensity the lab door swung open to reveal a surprised lab assistant. Peter immediately flushed red and ducked his head down, his mortification rendering him unable to speak. Gwen quickly found her voice. "My fault, Mrs Glasson," she cooed, pushing Peter out the door ahead of her. "I'm really nervous that we're going to get this kiss all wrong for the school play. I've been shoving poor Peter into broom cupboards all over the school trying to find some time to rehearse!"

The two of them bolted laughing down the corridor to English class and made it into the two remaining seats in the back row just before their teacher began the lesson. Sitting next to Gwen in class again was still a novelty for Peter. Mostly she was a model of a student dedication but sometimes, like this time, after they'd just been so brusquely interrupted, she was less than supportive of Peter's desire to learn. After the flurry of retrieving books and pens from their bags had ended and they settled into listening to Professor Boundy's introduction, Gwen linked her arm around his and traced distracting little patterns lightly on the back of his hand with her forefinger. He twisted slightly in his chair towards her, pressing his leg against hers and looked intently into her steady blue gaze. Unbidden, their conversation from a previous night came flooding back to him. Would he really always be able to leave her when someone else needed him? Would it always be as simple as he had made it seem? He wondered what she was thinking as she confidently met his eyes. Her tracing on the back of his hand had a mesmerising quality and he felt as if he were gradually being hypnotised by the light pressure of her fingers. A loud outburst of laughter from the class shook him out of his reverie and they turned from one another to find the whole class, including Professor Boundy, looking at them and laughing.

"I was saying," the professor intoned, half-stern, half-amused, "that Romeo and Juliet's fixation on one another early in the play was being demonstrated before our very eyes."

"And you didn't even hear her!" a vacuous cheerleader called Cora cackled. Even in his supreme embarrassment, Peter noticed Flash with his forehead resting on the desk next to her. He turned to grin sheepishly at Gwen who simply squeezed his hand under the desk.

* * *

Later that evening, Peter crouched in the heat of the spots, his head and body full of Gwen. If he didn't think it unbecoming for a superhero, he would have sprawled on his back with his hands casually tucked under his head and assumed his preferred position for daydreaming. So fully had he projected himself back into the prep lab with Gwen that when the first awful screech sounded, he didn't even know where to start looking. The night sky was as dark as it ever got in the permanent neon twilight of the glare of New York City. He was flummoxed. The screech definitely did not sound human. He ran to the edge of the building and hurled himself into the air, swinging himself around the perimeter of the tower to see if he could see anything. The traffic continued to rumble and the pedestrians bustled unperturbed. Peter began to assume that he must have been imagining things. He returned to the centre of the floodlit rooftop shaking his head slightly. There was silence for a moment or two before he heard the noise again. An ungodly screech, like that of an eagle - but impossibly loud - sounded from below, or was it above?

Peter scanned the sky for any hint of the source but New York looked much as it always did from this vantage point. He decided to be proactive and began a quick crawl down one side of the mirrored tower. The height advantage allowed him visibility without necessarily drawing attention to his investigations. He scanned the streets below for anything unusual as he descended but nothing jumped out at him. He heard no more screeching as he climbed but kept a wary ear out. Nothing. Peter shook his head as if to dislodge some water in his ears. Was a head full of Gwen making him delirious?

He began his climb back up the building and, as everything remained quiet below, entertained himself by peeking in the windows as he went. Some of the scientists and researchers working back late noticed him and gawked, others acknowledged him with a cheery wave or salute and some we so absorbed that they didn't even look up from their Bunsen burners. "Boffins," Peter chuckled to himself.

While he was still chuckling, he reached what appeared to be a small conference room at about the thirty fourth floor. He peered in and found himself looking straight at Gwen. She was presenting some data on a screen to a gathering of white-coated scientists and she stopped to stare at him open-mouthed. Her audience automatically followed Gwen's gaze out the window and swivelled in their chairs to see Spiderman clinging to the class. Some of the scientists waved, some laughed, one lady even blew him a kiss. He waved back, assuming Gwen would know that the gesture was for her, and went to move on quickly, hoping that she might be able to recover from the distraction and carry on with her presentation. Suddenly, without warning, he was hit from his left with incredible force. He lost purchase of the window and fell. Even through the thick glass, Peter could hear Gwen scream. He had been blindsided but what could have reached him on the thirty fourth floor? A bio-cable quickly righted him and as he hunted over his shoulder and above and below for whatever struck him, he made a point of swinging himself back past Gwen's window to reassure her that he was ok.

Within an instant, Peter gained terrifying insight into what it must be like to be a swallow who'd become prey in the eyes of a hawk. As he shot web after web, swinging pendulum-like from building to bridge and back again, the creature – or was there more than one – screeched and wheeled at him. Only after several minutes of ducking and weaving for his life did Peter manage to get enough distance to see his assailant. It was hideous. A kind of hawk/human hybrid but high on the hawk and low on the human, part carrion bird, part carrion, soaring and pecking at him with razor sharp beak and claws. Thus far he had managed to avoid the creature making contact but he could almost feel the blades every time he just scraped away from them. Though all of his wit and bottle was required to avoid this creature, in the back of his mind was Gwen watching, he imagined, in horrified silence from the conference room window, so close to the action. He always had a strong desire to survive, but Gwen increased his survival instinct ten-fold. He would not let this creature get him. If he were going to die, he at least wanted to be certain that Gwen wouldn't have to be standing helplessly by. Now that he had caught a glimpse of his attacker and it did seem for now that it was alone, he began to be able to go on the offensive a little more. He found, not just the time to shoot a cable to save his neck but also the time to fire a cable at the creature, trying to knock it off balance by disabling a wing. No luck. His aim was true and he could wrap the cable around the grotesquely feathered humanesque limb but the creature's ferocious wing-beat seemed to always shake the cable loose before it could tighten.

Unlike a hawk, this creature wasn't so much prone to hovering on thermals. Rather, it had extraordinary ability to change direction, and speed, to spin on a dime. Peter relied on momentum and swing, this creature seemed to pack an inexplicable thrust. It had been a long time since Peter had faced an opponent so worthy that he feared for his life. Dr Connors was a monster somewhat of his own creation so at least he had an idea of how to proceed but now, in the back of his mind, he began to feel the dark cold and exhaustion of inevitable defeat.

.

* * *

.

See what I did there? I put Spiderman in peril! And if you want him to live, or even die, rather than just disappear into the ether, then I'm gonna need some reviews. This, people, is what is known as RANSOM.

Again, I risk the potential indignity that none of you care, but I think that I have maybe as many as eight readers out there and I'm gonna need a nice little review from every one of you. Spidey's very existence (in this fic at least) is hanging in the balance and you have the power to perpetuate or (man, I need a really good p word...) pickle. P-word fail.


	8. Chapter 8

Peter found himself in free-fall. The sense of his impending demise, of being in a fight he could not possibly win was so great that he almost failed to try. Somehow, with great effort, he just managed to right himself with a desperate web a moment before he would have impaled himself on the sharp tip of a roof-top aerial.

As if surfacing after the real fear of drowning, Peter felt his mind sharpen and his eyes narrow. He _must _beat it. But what _was_ this creature? Where had it even come from?

As the questions formed themselves in his mind, a piercing whistle, definitely a whistle rather than a screech, sounded from deep within the concrete jungle. The creature immediately halted, turned its deadened eyes from Peter and streaked off into the night.

Peter flew straight into pursuit but in a split second, the unthinkable happened. A total blackout struck the city of New York. Instantaneously the perpetual twilight was eclipsed by inky black, so dark it seemed solid. But before the impact of the crash that Peter was bracing himself for in his disorientation, the lights began to flicker and glow and New York powered up again with what sounded like the drone of distant fighter jets after the single second of silence.

Peter clung to the side of the nearest building breathing heavily. He frantically scanned the sky trying to work out what direction to take in pursuit. Office fluorescent lighting flickered distractingly all around him as the city woke up from its split-second slumber. He had no idea how to follow this thing. He needed to go after it but instead he thought of Gwen. He backflipped spectacularly from the window and spun a few times like an Olympic diver before getting his bearings and swinging himself back toward Oscorp. He knew Gwen needed to see him but he also needed to see her.

His web allowed him to sail past at just the height of her conference room. She sat in a chair under the screen that was flickering back to life with her forgotten data. Her face was pale and both her hands were clenched over her heart.

Peter saw her see him and noticed the immediate change relief made to her face and demeanour. He could almost imagine her drawing back the attention of the room, expertly pretending that all she'd just witnessed were the escapades of an anonymous superhero.

Peter was still searching the city half an hour later when, mid-flight, he felt the distinctive buzz of a text message in his boot. He swung to a halt on a deserted penthouse balcony overhanging the river and pulled out his phone. It was Gwen. He had to laugh at the casual understatement of her text.

"Walk me home from work? Oscorp lobby 10pm?"

"Sure" he buzzed back.

He checked the time. Still five minutes before Gwen would start impatiently tapping her foot. He felt like he had genuinely exhausted all avenues. The creature seemed to have literally disappeared into the night.

Feeling defeated he hit the ground and ran into a nearby deserted alleyway to throw his clothes on over his suit. Maybe Gwen's dad had been right after all.

He forced himself to focus on his body on the ground and assumed a saunter that he hoped was casual enough not to draw any attention from the Oscorp staff. Gwen seemed similarly cautious, wandering out of the lift as though it were any other Thursday night. She smiled at Peter as she crossed the lobby, but seemed to be looking him up and down, checking for injuries. She walked right up to him and without stopping or speaking, grabbed his hand and lead him firmly out into the cold night. She marched him a few blocks down the street, chattering brightly about her night at work, and then suddenly yanked him after her into an alley and threw her arms around him.

"Are you hurt?" she whispered into his sweater.

"Nope," Peter whispered back. "Just freaking out a little bit."

"What _was_ that thing, Peter?"

He shook his head distractedly. "I have no idea." He leaned down to gently kiss her. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

Gwen shook her head. "Don't say that. It was awful having to stand back and watch. I was so worried that I'd call out your name, but I'd rather have been there than anywhere else."

Peter held her more closely to him. "It was good to know you were safe."

Gwen pulled back to look up into his face. "Everyone upstairs seemed more worried by the blackout than the creature. Do you think they're related?"

Peter nodded. "The thing used the darkness to disappear. Did anyone say anything about an EMP?"

"That's what they were worried about. Obviously, loss of power, even for a second, can compromise so much of the work going on at Oscorp, not to mention the havoc it can create for everyone else."

"It would have to have been a massive pulse to take out the power for the whole city," Peter mused, still holding firmly onto Gwen. "Anyway, we'd better get you home in case your mom hears the news and imagines the worst."

They walked a little way in silence, hand-in-hand. "What if it comes back, Peter?" Gwen whispered. "How are you going to fight it?"

"I don't know," Peter shrugged. "You saw the whole thing. Could you see anything I could have tried?"

Gwen walked in silence for a block, musing. "I'll keep thinking, but for now, I'm drawing a blank."

Peter looked sideways at the concern etched into her features. He sighed. The two of them were world weary at the age of seventeen. He quietly resolved to put his fears aside for the moment and crooked his elbow to bring Gwen's hand to his lips. "Well, let's forget about it for now."

She turned to find his eyes, her surprise and confusion clearly evident. "Forget?"

Peter grinned with a glee that effectively belied the concern he felt. "I'm guessing this would be the last thing you'd expect me to say under the circumstances, but can't we just pretend it didn't happen and look forward to the dance tomorrow night?"

Gwen's eyes narrowed. "Peter? Did that bird thing shoot you with some kind of personality-altering gamma ray?"

"Maybe," Peter laughed, "But, seriously, can't we? I've been waiting for weeks now to see you in this beautiful dress of yours. I don't want that stupid birdman getting in my way."

Gwen's smile managed to overpower even the furrow in her brow, though she remained internally mystified as to how Peter was able to make light of the night they'd just had.

As for Peter, he was surprised at how quickly he'd come to terms with the fact that the next time he would face this new enemy, he would most likely die. The one thing he could promise himself was a last night with Gwen before he went.

_If you're out there, Dear Imagined Reader, I apologise for the long wait. Perhaps you were even in suspense!? I was feeling all demoralised thinking that anyone who had started reading my story had given up because it was no good. BUT then I found a kind review from some fabulous person calling themselves ChrisSummers and I sat down and wrote most of three more chapters! (It helps that I've suddenly found myself with eight hours commuting a week!) The next three chapters are for you, ChrisSummers!_


	9. Chapter 9

The next morning, the birdman was all over the news. Perhaps it was that no one saw, perhaps it was that no one cared, but before the creature attacked Peter mid-air, the media could now report that it had waged a brutal attack on a homeless shelter. Peter sat in the kitchen open-mouthed over his cereal bowl as he and Aunt May tried to process the gruesome details so matter-of-factly announced by the newsreader. Twelve men (twelve!) had been gored to death by the thing and, most disturbingly of all, many of the carcasses were half-eaten.

He shook his head in disbelief. He thought he wanted to kill this thing yesterday but now, now that it turned out it was praying on the city's most vulnerable and mostly forgotten, now he _really_ wanted to kill it.

In his shock and disgust it took Peter a moment to realise that his phone was ringing.

"Are you watching the news?"

"I think I'm gonna spew."

"Peter, what are you going to do?"

Peter blinked a few times and then made his resolve.

"I'm gonna go back to bed for a few hours to get up my strength, then I'm gonna get my suit on, pick you up and take you to the dance."

Silence.

"Really?"

"You still wanna go with me, right?"

"Yes! But…"

Peter got up and walked out of earshot of Aunt May.

"If that thing comes back," he paused, gritting his teeth. "When that thing comes back, I'm damn well gonna fight it, but Gwen? Until then, seriously, all I want to do is see you in your dress."

He could almost hear her smile down the line. "Are you nuts?"

"Probably. See you tonight?"

"See you."

Try as he might, Peter could not get his navy tie to hang to just the right height aganist his shirt. He'd managed to tie it both ludicrously short and awkwardly long. No amount of tying bad guys in knots had prepared him for this.

"Aunt May?" Peter bellowed down the stairs. "A little help?"

May appeared in the doorway, drying her hands on a dishrag. Peter wordlessly indicated his predicament.

"Your Uncle Ben was useless at this too, if it helps," she said quietly, expertly taking up both ends of the tie and deftly executing the double windsor that had baffled her nephew.

She stood back to admire her handiwork and to take in Peter in all his finery. "Oh, Peter," she sighed, her eyes misting over, "You're so much like him, you know. You look so grown-up and so handsome." She turned her back to him and shuffled out the door to hide her tears. "Come down when you're ready and let me take a picture."

Peter had laughed at the reverent way she had stored Gwen's corsage in the fridge until he was ready to leave.

"Can you ask Gwen's mother to take some pictures for me?" May asked as he strode into the kitchen and opened the fridge to fetch it.

Despite his numerous distraction, he saw the opportunity to make his aunt's day. "Aunt May? Do you want to come with me to Gwen's place? I'm sure Gwen's mum would love to meet you, and then you can take some photos of us too?"

May's eyes grew all misty again. "Oh, Peter, you don't want me tagging along!"

Peter laughed and looked at his watch. "I do, as long as you're ready to walk out the door in ten!"

He had never seen his aunt move so fast. As he met her at the door, he was reminded of the doom he had predicted for himself. If this was his last night with Aunt May too, it would be worth laying it on thick. He held out her puffy coat and helped her into it, offered his arm to her as she stepped out the front door and the two of them walked across the city together through the slush, May's little camera clutched tightly in her gloved hand.

Gwen looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her mom had managed to pull-off the hair style she'd found inspiration for on Pinterest and the fifties up-do perfectly set off the vintage dress she and her mum had found in an amazing New York thrift store all those weeks before. The dress was white with a navy floral motif and while it was closely fitted across the bodice, it flared from the waist into a voluminous multi-petticoated full skirt that fell to the knee. She had paired it with sheer stockings and navy kitten heels and she felt and looked like a much-more-together Betty Draper. At her throat sparkled a tiny diamond and sapphire pendant that her father had given her mother to wear on their wedding day. She couldn't help reaching up to touch it every now and again, it felt like such a precious object to wear, to what was, in the grand scheme of things, such a simple occasion.

She was startled by the sound of the knock at the front door and heard her mom greeting Peter and his Aunt May and taking their coats. She smiled to herself, it was so sweet of him to want to bring his aunt along. She grabbed the cream damask leather clutch that her mom had also lent her for the occasion. She couldn't wait to see Peter in that suit again.

Mrs Parker and Mrs Stacey couldn't help but giggle quietly together. Gwen had appeared at the door and halted, staring at Peter. Peter was similarly stunned, standing literally agape at Gwen.

He eventually came to. "Hey," he grinned.

Gwen could be in no doubt of his utter approval of her appearance. "Hey," she replied softly.

"Glass of wine, May?" Gwen's mother offered, gesticulating unsubtley towards the kitchen.

"Mmm, love one," May laughingly replied, and the two women almost tiptoed out of the room.

Left alone, their awe and hesitation dissapated and Gwen skipped into Peter's arms. "Don't mess up my make-up," she warned playfully and stood daintily on her tiptoes for a kiss.

"Gwen. Wow… Beautiful _so _doesn't cover it," Peter breathed.

Gwen grinned. "I'm still pretty satisfied with 'best girl in the school' so feel free to leave it at that."

Peter laughed. "How about best girl in _all_ the schools?"

Gwen nodded sagely. "Yes, I think I am willing to accept hyperbole, just for tonight."

He pulled her closer to him, wrapped his arms firmly around her and kissed her tenderly. If by some miracle this wasn't his last night with Gwen, if by some miracle he somehow managed to live into old age, he noted this one as a memory to hold on to.

After the corsage was presented and pictures were taken, Gwen and Peter farewelled her mom and his aunt, donned their coats and stepped out of Gwen's apartment to head to the New York City Courthouse.

The two women laughed together after they heard the elevator doors close and resumed their seats on the sofa. Gwen's mom grew quiet. Eventually, she spoke. "I fell in love with my husband when I was seventeen."

May reached over and covered Mrs Stacey's hand with her own. "So did I."

_Well, this chapter did mostly come into being thanks to the encouragement of a magnificent citizen of the interwebs going by the username ChrisSummers. This excellent person's kind reviewing motivated me to keep going when I thought everyone had given up on my story, but it was another review from the lovely Kelly that actually prompted me to get this chapter into shape for posting, though it _has_ taken me a while! Thanks ChrisSummers and thanks Kelly! This chapter is for both of you. I wonder if there'll be anyone out there to dedicate the next chapter to? It's only about a paragraph long so far so believe me when I say that encouragement from you, dear reader, will be highly valued and necessary if there is to be more to come._


	10. Chapter 10

Gwen had been nervous about walking through the snow in her kitten heels. Thankfully, there had only been a light fall that morning leaving her free to forget the obstacles and more or less float along on Peter's arm. It was that suit again! Every few steps she would look up at him, trying not to crane her neck too obviously as she gazed into his face. She had spent much of the morning feeling sick to her stomach about the fight she knew must inevitably lay ahead for Peter. And even despite the enormity of her concerns for him, she still had plenty of room for rage against this creature that preyed on the most vulnerable people in the city. After an arduous tussle of conscience she concluded that if Peter could forget about it for one night, and he would be the one who actually had to fight this thing, then for his sake, she could put it aside for the evening too. After all, going to the dance had been her idea in the first place. She had wanted to have some element of this night, this going through the motions of the highschool ritual for her mom, that was for her too. As it turned out, Peter, in his fly blue suit, cufflinks shiny and all bright, glancing down at her every few seconds with a delighted smile, was more than playing his part.

Peter felt slightly giddy. He was aware of an intensity in his chest that made him vaguely concerned his ribcage was expanding or perhaps that his skin was about to pop right off his skeleton. He felt his whole body humming with excitement, just to be walking down the street with Gwen on his arm. Imminent death or no, he was going to drink in every moment of this night that was never supposed to happen, he was going to bask in every smile of this girl who was never supposed to be his.

Neither of them were conscious at all of the cold and it took quite a number of icy flakes landing on their bare skin before they registered the fact that it was snowing. There was no wind and the fall was light. Peter smiled at the tiny sparkles on Gwen's coat and hair and stopped still just to enjoy standing out in the snow with her enroute to a Winter Formal. Gwen stopped and sought Peter's face, her expression quizzical.

"You okay?" she asked.

Peter grinned and scratched the back of his head. "Um, well, this is kind of romantic, isn't it?"

Gwen stepped right up to him and wound her arms around his neck, standing on tiptoe in her dainty heels. As he leaned down to meet her lips, Peter noticed that her closed eyelashes glistened with tiny intricate snowflakes.

At school, his hippy homeroom teacher, Ms Jackson, made them take what she called "gratitude snapshots". It was meant to be some sort of positive psychology exercise she was into. She would encourage the students to focus on a moment of happiness – "that moment when you bite into the first mango of the summer," she would suggest, "or that moment when you put your pen down after the final exam of the year" – and they were meant to mentally record it, as if taking a photo, so that they could go back to it in their memories at difficult times and remember that they had things to be thankful for. Peter had spent the year scoffing while his classmates presumably recalled cuddling their new puppy or the freedom of going for their first solo drive.

It wasn't until this moment that he realised the value of the exercise. It would be this moment, leaning down to kiss a smiling Gwen, her eyelashes sparkling with newly fallen snow, that for him would blast away the Dementors. If only _his_ Dementors were as incorporeal, as defeatable and as _fictional_ as Harry Potter's.

Ms Jackson always encouraged her students to notice those moments of bliss and do all that they could to make them last. Peter diligently followed her advice until a limo full of similarly formal-bound students drove past them with the windows down to ensure that their catcalls and wolfwhistles wouldn't go unheard. Peter and Gwen grinned at one another and turned hand-in-hand to continue on their way to the dance.

The foyer of the City Courthouse was full of nervously giggling students pressed around the edges, dwarfed and hushed by the enormity of the structure. Gwen led Peter away from the crowd to a glass case in the centre of the hall. He was confused until he saw where she was leading him – the collection of medals and plaques in honour of the mysterious Spiderman, who never showed up to receive the honours the city wanted to bestow on him. He had known that this case existed, but he had not yet come to see it. He felt that in some way he'd be tempting fate. But here he was, an every day seventeen year old kid, just doing what kids do, being taken by his girlfriend to a school dance, so he guessed he could do as he liked.

Approaching the case, Peter saw only a barrage of words engraved into metal – _hero, saviour, bravery, courage, service, sacrifice_. Any sense of being honoured was immediately dwarfed by an almost paralysing sense of expectation. The city would only venerate Spiderman as long as he came through. And what if he couldn't come through this time? The fear that he was determined to keep dormant threatened to engulf him.

He realised that Gwen was whispering to him. It took all his energy to still his mind and focus on her words. "…And even if you hadn't done any of this," she was saying, her clear blue eyes looking intently into his, "I'd still be in love with you."

Peter mentally stopped still and reorganised his Patronus charm. The snowflake-eyelashes-kiss had been outdone less than half an hour after it occurred. This girl was _good_.

Gwen, amused by the mute grinning stupor her declaration seemed to have knocked Peter into, stood on tiptoe to plant a soft kiss on his cheek then laughingly placed her hands on his waist to physically turn and steer him towards the elevator that would take them up to the rooftop function room. Peter remained speechless as the carriage bore them upwards but the firmness of his embrace, the barely perceptible but unmistakeable mistiness of his eyes and the hundred or so kisses he planted on the top of Gwen's head as they ascended more than made up for his lack of words.

* * *

_Ok, so that was just a bit of fluff to keep these postings moving along. If I can raise myself out of my slump, the next chapter will be picking up the pace. Cheers to the magnificent KelianaLeFay - perhaps the lone soul who read that last chapter and helped me believe that at least one person might read the next one. _

_I wonder if it's possible that there are people out there who are reading this but they just don't want me to know about it? Maybe no one's into Peter/Gwen anymore? I mean seriously, explain to me how ANYONE moves on from the awesomeness of Andrew Garfield and Emma Stone!_

_Maybe this story is just a bit too far away from the real plot for anyone to be enjoying it? I mean, it's not legit Spidey. Not remotely. Perhaps I've just trespassed on the domain of too many Marvel fans..._

_If you're out there, readers, help me! I'm a big ball of insecurity! Do you know that writing this story has been up there with the most demoralising things I've ever done? I mean, seriously, I'm writing fan fiction, and a LOT of it - that's a little bit disastrous in itself, but even worse than that, every time I post a chapter I spend the next few days compulsively checking to see if anyone likes it and it seems so rare that anyone ever does! There's this one Peter/Gwen fanfic on here that I'm reading and it is SO awesome and I have reviewed every chapter because I am DESPERATE for the author to keep writing but I think they've given up coz they were similarly demoralised. I even went back to try and write a second review for their last chapter just to let them know that I still wanted more and that's how I learnt that you can't review these puppies more than once! Not really a battle I guess any of you guys are facing..._

_Well, that's the end of my attempt to wheedle the love out of you. Now I know that this week is going to be even worse because I'm going to be all certain that at least a few people are going to take pity on me and write me a compassionate little something or other and I'm going to check my reviews even more compulsively and I'm going to be a little ball of self-pity by the end of the week. _

_And, in case any of you are interested in reading any more of this story, little balls of self-pity do NOT write good fanfic... However, perhaps if I felt loved and appreciated - who knows to what heights this little story could soar!? Perhaps the experimental nature of this might prompt some of you to join in? See if your reviews drastically improve my output? I guess it would be difficult for these chapters to get any worse... _

_(See! I told you - self-pity!)_


	11. Chapter 11

Flash sat with Cora at the ticket table ostensibly welcoming his classmates to the dance. None of the physical attributes that initially attracted him to her had changed. If anything, in her clingy red dress, she was "hotter" than she'd ever been. But Flash was seriously reconsidering the value of "hot". Cora and the other ostensibly "hot" girl at the ticket table had spent the last half hour viciously bitching about the fashion choices of their peers. Where Flash's initial impulse might have been to remark on how much a girl he'd always thought plain had been improved by her choice of dress or hairstyle, Cora and her crony could only point out her fat and her flaws.

Flash was savvy enough to learn as time went by that the pair saved their worst vitriol for the girls that they secretly envied. The ones who looked genuinely lovely and seemed happy with their friends or their date were shredded the minute they moved into the function room and his companions could turn off their fake smiles of welcome. He passed the time by watching the elevator doors open and close, only mildly interested in who walked through them.

"Oh, Flash," Cora cooed. "Would you mind seeing if everyone's here yet?"

He scanned the list in front of him. Most names were ticked off now, everyone except…

As the elevator doors opened, Flash inexplicably found himself on his feet.

Gwen walked towards him beaming and for a crazy moment, he believed that her smile was for him. He couldn't even pay attention to details like dress and hair and shoes. All he saw was the vision of loveliness that was Gwen Stacey. But then he noticed her arm extended behind her and at the end of that arm, her tiny beautiful hand, grasped in the strong grip of his one-time victim, Peter Parker.

Peter looked slightly stunned but he managed to grin sheepishly at Flash. Flash momentarily relapsed and pined for the good old days when he could have just grabbed Parker and frog-marched him to the toilets for a dunking. How did this guy get so good? And get Gwen? It was too much for Flash. He plonked himself back on his chair and thunked his head on the table.

"You okay, Flash?" Gwen asked, sounding genuinely concerned as she fished their tickets out of her dainty clutch.

"Mmnphf," Flash responded despondently.

"He's ok," cooed Cora, stroking his back and making his flesh crawl. "He's just been working so hard for tonight. Haven't you, Flashie?"

Flash was so disgusted with the whole scenario that he could only bring himself to rock his head from side to side in protest.

As the couple moved on, Flash braced himself for the awful things the girls next to him would have to say about Gwen. Whether for the sake of his self-esteem or not, Flash couldn't say, but they started with Peter instead.

"That Peter Parker used to be such a nobody!" Cora's friend whispered. "But now he is _seriously_ hot!"

"I know!" Cora replied enthusiastically. "Would you just look at the way he fills out that suit? Those shoulders of his are SO hot."

"Look at the way he's staring at that Gwen girl. He is, like, SO far gone!"

"Hmph," replied Cora dismissively. "No idea what he sees in her, she's such a skinny little bitch. Bet she'll break his heart."

"And look at that ancient flea market dress! Gross! Well, if she's gonna break his heart, I'll happily step in to help him pick up the pieces…"

Flash amused himself by repeatedly banging his head on the table.

* * *

The DJ who had the first set was at the far end of the hall, as far away as could be from Cora and the welcome table. Most of their classmates were already on the dance floor and Gwen inclined her head towards them, her eyebrows raised in question. To her surprise, Peter shrugged happily and followed her towards the floor. Gwen had never been one to go out to dances or clubs but she _was_ inclined to tune into the occasional independent dance station with her brothers and let off steam to a bit of dubstep or deep funky house now and again. It became apparent that Peter was not at all unfamiliar with the genre himself. Gwen was so surprised to find him confident and happy on the dance floor.

They laughed at each other in the joy and surprise of finding themselves both really enjoying something that they had never anticipated the other would be into. It turned out they were both examples of those rare nerds who also had excellent rhythm. Songs came on that they both knew and were simultaneously excited about – deadmau5, Skrillex, Swedish House Mafia – and they grew more and more playful with one another and more and more animated in their dancing. The pair of them were unaware of the admiring glances of their classmates, some checking out Gwen, some checking out Peter, and some just enjoying seeing what the two of them had with each other, some yearning to one day experience a connection like that themselves.

Peter and Gwen stayed on the floor dancing until the DJ's set finished and he threw on some ambience while he packed up.

"WATER," Gwen panted, pulling Peter off the floor towards the under-age-friendly bar. They downed multiple glasses before finally heading off to find their table.

"Hey, you two!" Cora cooed condescendingly as they found their places. "You're both GORgeous on the dance floor!"

Unphased, Peter and Gwen, plonked themselves in front of their slightly cold meals and tucked in. Both were keen to get back on the dance floor the minute the High Highs started their set. Peter snuck a glance at his watch. It was still early. He looked sideways at Gwen, still bopping from the residual beat of the previous set that seemed to have seeped into her bones. She was so beautiful, and this night was so far shaping up to be the best night of his life. But regardless of what he might end up missing out on, he was, God help him, _not_ going to let that bird thing get anywhere near another one of its gruesome feeds. No more vulnerable people were going to die helpless tonight.

Perhaps as a result of the fun he'd been having on the dance floor, his fears for himself had subsided and his resolve for those who needed his help had sharpened. Unless he detected anything happening before, he'd stay only one more hour with Gwen and then he'd have to leave her. He knew she'd understand. He took the opportunity, while Flash engaged Gwen in small talk to her left, to grab her dainty clutch and shove a hundred dollar bill into it so that she could safely catch a cab home. He'd catch up with her after. He caught himself just before he mentally added "_if there's going to _be_ an after_."

The ethereal sounds of the High Highs resounded in the cavernous space. Above them, through the glass ceiling, a light flurry of snow, tiny individual snowflakes whirling in the fitful breeze. The view of the night sky was unimpeded – above them soared the imposing spires and towers that made up the New York City skyline. The snow only enhanced the ambience of the room below where couples swayed together in the warmth.

Peter kept an eye on the large clock that formed the main decorative feature of the panelled north wall. Like a temporally conscious Cinderella, Peter both knew the moment of his departure drew near and wished with all he had that he didn't have to leave.

"Gwen," he whispered into her ear.

"Time to go?" she anticipated.

Peter nodded. "That ok?"

She nodded in return. "There are people that need you more out there than I need you in here." Gwen smiled bravely, "Not that having you here hasn't helped to make me look less awkward during the slow dances."

Peter grinned despite the ache of leaving her. "I stuck some money in your purse. Can you please get a cab home? I want to know that you're safe." He grew even more serious, looking down at his feet. "Hey, Gwen?" He paused. "Just in case anything happens, I wanted you to hear me say, so, umm, so you know it for sure…" He raised his eyes to hers, "I love you, too."

Gwen nodded, trying to smile, but the coloured lights reflected in the single tear glistening on her cheek.

Peter held her face in his hands, stroked away the tear with the pad of his thumb and stooped to tenderly kiss her goodbye. Gwen's tears fell freely, but when she opened her eyes, Peter was gone.

She found her way back to the table to grab her clutch so that she could get out. She wasn't thinking about anything but Peter, so it took her completely by surprise to find Flash sitting alone at his place next to hers.

He jumped to his feet as she approached. "Gwen? Are you ok? What happened?"

Gwen was at a total loss to explain her obvious emotion.

"Where's Parker?" Flash's eyes narrowed. "Gwen, what did he do to you?"

She shook her head, desperately trying to think of a way to contradict Flash's immediate assumption.

"Nothing, Flash," she said. "Nothing happened."

"Well, why is he gone?" Flash demanded. "And why are you crying?"

"We had a stupid fight," Gwen heard herself say, immediately wishing she could take it back. "I told him to get lost, and he did. He didn't _do_ anything."

Flash paused. "A fight, hey?" She could see him struggling to look sympathetic. "Is it over between you two?"

Gwen contemplated how best to answer. Yes? No? "I don't know, Flash."

"Want me to take you home?" he offered hopefully.

Gwen wiped her face with her hands. "Thanks Flash, that's really kind, but I wouldn't want to be in the way for you and Cora."

Flash snorted and indicated the dance floor where Cora was making out with a guy that Gwen vaguely recognised from Bio.

Flash looked rueful. "Looks like we've both been ditched."

"Oh, Flash, I'm sorry. Still, thanks for the offer but I think I'd prefer to be alone."

Gwen's words were swallowed by a horrifyingly familiar piercing shriek and every eye, even Cora and Bio Guy's, turned skywards. Far above them, an aerial battle was being waged between Spiderman and not one but three of the hideous, bird-like creatures.

The Midtown Science Senior Year Winter Formal attendees stood in sudden silence. Since the day Spiderman fought an epic battle on their very own campus, the students looked on him as a kind of personal guardian. The student body was so unified in their craned necks that not even the unexpected arrival of their patron, Mr Anthony Abbott himself, made the slightest impact. The impressive personage stood unobtrusively against the wall in his expansive suit, whispering into his cell phone, his eyes on the sky.

Gwen felt rooted to the spot. All her self-control was harnessed as she forced herself not to scream or cry out. Spiderman, Peter, looked effortless in these initial minutes – ducking, weaving, firing web after web at his hideous assailants. Yet nothing slowed them down.

Three were vastly more terrifying than one. They wheeled and attacked in a blunt formation and forced Peter to constantly move in echo, nothing he was trying seemed to enable him to take the offensive.

Gwen willed him all her strength, all her speed, all her skill, such as it was. If she could have offered him any advantage in being in the air with him, she would have found a way.

The students collectively gasped as Spiderman somehow eluded a vicious concentrated attack. He spun and swung for all he was worth, shooting a volley of webs and flipping himself skilfully through the night sky. He landed on the mirrored side of a skyscraper and paused only to sling a web out across the abyss, swinging out to his left to try to gain the upper hand. The creatures seemed to anticipate this shift of direction and, instead of aiming for Spiderman himself, two took to the biocable with their razor sharp beaks and bladed claws. The third went for the body blow.

Gwen's scream was lost in the collective cries of her classmates as they watched their hero in free-fall.

Standing on the ground as they were, the Senior Class stood helpless as Spiderman's limp, spandex-clad form hurtled limply towards them. Gwen felt an impulse to stretch out her arms, as if she could somehow break his fall. He looked so vulnerable – face up, limbs akimbo, crashing down towards the earth. After what felt like ages, though it could only have been an instant, the glass ceiling above them shimmered and resounded with the huge impact of his seemingly lifeless form.

The teens stood as one, open-mouthed and terrified at this catastrophic sight. Spiderman fallen from the sky, prone. A pack of carrion creatures circling down towards their prey.

Gwen could clearly see the contours of Peter's shoulder-blades through the spandex that hid his identity from everyone else in the room. She could see the familiar shape of his forearm and hand. She had been held in those arms, pressed against that chest, wrapped around that neck that was suspended so close to her and yet was so impossible to reach. She felt the bile rise up in her throat as his attackers descended.

"Get up!" she cried and, with a burning affection for her classmates that she had never anticipated feeling, she found her shout immediately echoed by every student present.

"Spiderman! Wake up, dude!" "Kick their asses!" "Get up, man!" "C'mon!"

Whether or not the clamour of encouragement below had anything to do with it, Peter's hand twitched. His classmates shouted louder. She looked around her. Every eye was on the ceiling and every voice was raised in support.

Again, she glanced up at his helpless form. Spiderman needed more than a cheer squad. She found herself with a plan. Without anyone noticing, she marched out of the room and was gone.

* * *

_Wow, I should share my self-pity more often! Thank you SO MUCH for those much needed bursts of encouragement. This chapter is here thanks to the kindness of (and consequently dedicated to) emikey87, C-Jam, KronosSlayer21 (I hope you can forgive me!), Lalaith Quetzalli, CastiellsMyAngel and pandacuddles6._

_Well, whether or not your encouragement has enhanced the _quality_ of what you've just read, there's no doubt that it has enhanced the quantity! I think that was about double my usual chapter length! And can I just say how much I enjoyed your interaction and your sharing with me the things you liked and the things you didn't like. With my past fanfic effort, I used to so love the interaction of the readers after each chapter went up. It was always awesome to feel like I was publishing for an actual audience who got to have a say! _

_This time around, until now, writing fanfic had been feeling a little bit sad and empty as a venture without that feedback. None of my real-life friends are allowed to read this one so you guys are all I've got! (It's mainly coz if they see this they might see my Anne of Green Gables fic and that one has some serious potential to shatter whatever limited street cred I may have accrued…)_

_Well, I send you all my love from my train carriage in the last half hour of my two-hour commute home up to a particular alpine region of a particular island somewhere in the Southern Hemisphere. _

_I'm very excited about the next chapter but I feel I must warn you, I'll need to go back and re-watch "The Amazing Spider-Man" before I can write it. I saw it three times at the movies but that was way back in July. Gotta go find it somewhere on DVD. I'm not sure about your genders out there or your sexual orientations but I look forward to doing some swooning over the magnificent AG. I don't know about you, right, but here's my favourite moment in the movie and it happens in a split second. Youtube it and you'll see what I mean, ok?_

_So, we're with Gwen and Peter on the rooftop of her apartment building. Peter has just said all matter of factly "I've been bitten" but he can't get anything else out for a moment. Gwen so beautifully and mistakenly confuses his revelation for teenage boy poetry and says "So have I". Then, Andrew Garfield runs this little reel of facial expressions from utter confusion to this moment where he gets it and he kind of bites his bottom lip coz he realises what she's just said and it's this moment of total awesomeness. That, sports fans, is my favourite, all time moment in the movie. That bite the bottom lip moment. Search it up on youtube. It comes up, unsurprisingly, when you type in "Peter Gwen kiss". I defy you not to see the awesomeness._


	12. Chapter 12

The yellow taxi screeched to a halt outside the imposing glass doors of Oscorp Tower. Peter's scrunched-up hundred dollar bill jumped out of her tiny clutch the instant Gwen popped the clasp and she handed it over absent-mindedly, fishing around for her security pass, not waiting for change before she slammed the car door behind her and rushed into the empty foyer. She half-skidded to the elevator in her kitten heels, pressed for the floor of the intern office and, after what seemed an interminable ascent, rushed breathlessly to her locker. Fumbling through her combination she thanked her lucky stars that she had lacked the motivation to ever actually use the gym clothes she had, in a fit of good intentions, brought to work that day, months previously. She grabbed the gym bag, kicked off her heels, threw them in her locker and purposefully made her way through the all but deserted building to the thirty-fourth floor conference room that she had been working in two nights previously when Peter first encountered this hideous new enemy.

Gwen dropped her gym bag and ran first to the window to see if there was any sign of Spiderman or the bird creatures. The gentle flurry of snow seemed the only movement on the sky line. She scanned as far as she could but knew that time was ticking away.

She hurried to the credenza that extended along the length of the room and pulled out of the orderly drawers a large sheet of paper, a roll of tape, a manila folder and a Sharpie. In a style like that she had seen used at Oscorp before, she scrawled "HAZARD" in official looking letters on the paper and taped it carefully over the one glass panel that looked out into the corridor beyond. She'd seen the HAZARD sign utilised for its proper purposes and to allow a couple of her fellow interns a little time to themselves but either way, no one at Oscorp opened a door marked HAZARD unless they were properly kitted out in the HAZMAT protective suit and headgear. The other two walls of the conference room were home to various screens and monitors and the back subsisted of the floor to ceiling windows looking out across New York.

Once satisfied that no one would see in or gain access from the corridor, Gwen yanked the now painful pins out of her up-do and threw them in her bag, then reached around to unzip her gown, letting it shimmy to the floor while she rummaged for her t-shirt. She threw on t-shirt and sweat pants and jammed her feet into her tell-tale spotless joggers, hurriedly but carefully hanging her gown over the back of a chair.

Carefully propping the conference room door open with the roll of tape, Gwen grabbed the manila folder and moved quickly into the Oscorp Central Laboratory on the same floor. It had been here that she'd caught Peter hiding amongst her group of interns so long before. She slid open the cupboard beneath the closest work station and scanned the supplies until she located the smallest beaker she could see, about the size of a shot glass.

Across the floor of the central lab she strode and along the glass-walled corridor, the surface on which she walked falling away to her left into the cavern between skyscrapers below. She half-jogged down the dark brown panelled hallway to a door marked with the red double zero symbol and a prominent plaque that read Biocable Development Unit. Her hand flew straight to the neon-lit key pad, the swipe combination to which, despite its regular updates, she'd had many opportunities to unobtrusively learn. The heavy door clicked and the handle responded easily to pressure. She slid surreptitiously into the brightly lit white room, pulling the door carefully behind her.

Mechanical arms clicked and whirred and conveyer belts hummed, ferrying back and forth little pallets of the silver pellets she recognised as those scattered across the surface of Peter's desk. She strode without hesitation to the glass door, emanating its purple glow and, ignoring the enormous lettering that proclaimed access to be restricted, slipped into the dimly lit lab beyond. Gwen took a moment to exhale. She cautiously entered the maze of webbing over which presided thousands upon thousands of tiny genetically-enhanced spiders glowing white and turquoise under the black lights.

"So beautiful," she breathed. Her brief moment of wonder passed and Gwen very carefully set to work. She was determined not to disturb the webs in any way. She carefully extended the corner of the manila folder toward the first arachnid in the web. In an instant it clambered onto the card and Gwen moved decisively to trap it with the beaker. She didn't have a moment to lose. Carefully, before the spider had time to feel particularly threatened, Gwen held the folder above her head, her two hands still applying pressure to either end of the beaker. Moving fast, she pressed the beaker and folder against the precise point of her vertebrae that Peter had shown her on the nape of his own neck. She wasn't sure how important the contact site would be but she didn't want to take any chances. She took a deep breath to steady herself and then, like a conjurer whipping a table cloth out from under a fully laid table, yanked the manila folder away. The creature instantaneously reacted. A sharp sting and she was bitten.

After waiting a moment, hoping against hope that her action would prove true, she swept the lip of the beaker firmly upwards against her flesh and banged the manila folder back on top. It had worked. The spider remained trapped in the jar but lay dead on the bottom. A thin line of web seemed to run from the rear tip of the spider's abdomen out of the beaker and up over her shoulder. Gwen began to feel faint. She knew from Peter's experience that she wouldn't have long. Still grasping the beaker and the folder, she made her way carefully out of the lab and back into the dark brown panelled corridor. Her breathing began to feel laboured, her feet felt clumsy and her head was beginning to pound. She soldiered on. As she returned to the glass-walled corridor, she had to press herself against the glass to remain upright. Gwen made the mistake of looking down and felt the bile rise in her throat as she found herself seemingly suspended over the abyss. Entering the central lab she hobbled, dizzy and sweating, from one work station to the next slowly making her way across the floor.

She stumbled back into the conference room, kicking the roll of tape away and the door slammed shut behind her. Gwen collapsed onto the floor, smashing the beaker beneath her, her last conscious thoughts of Peter.

* * *

Peter had awoken to the sharp sound of that same infuriating whistle he'd heard the previous night. He was lying on his back on a cold glass surface and he watched helplessly as his assailants circled, suddenly so high above him, and soared away into the night sky. A second or two after they disappeared from his sight he realised where he was. He tensed his body and flipped himself over into a push-up posture, staring down into what seemed like an enormous aquarium full of his formally-attired classmates. After a moment of open-mouthed silence they burst into relieved applause, fist-pumps and hoots of relief to see Spiderman recover from the terrifying fall and total inertia that they'd collectively witnessed. Peter quickly scanned the crowd. No Gwen.

He managed to jovially salute his audience below, which went over extremely well, and shot a web into the sky above, noting as he did so, the presence of an ill-fitting figure in the room below. It looked to Peter like Anthony Abbott, but where did that guy ever go without a huge entourage? He must have been in the court house and popped in to watch the fight above.

For the moment, Peter had much deeper concerns. Where were the birdmen now? Had they flown off to find another set of victims? If Gwen had left the court house, presumably that left her as potential prey out in the open. Peter immediately commenced one of his familiar tours of the city, eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary.

Once satisfied that there were no gruesome feasts taking place in any of the seedier parts of town, Peter began a dedicated search for Gwen. Dawn was approaching and she hadn't been answering his increasingly desperate phone calls. He allowed himself to get as close as he dared to Gwen's apartment block but he could sense, even from a distance, that she wasn't there. He tried zooming over his own place in case she'd gone there looking for him. Nothing.

Wracking his brains for ideas as to where she might be, he thought he might as well try Oscorp Tower. Something specific to do would help him hold at bay his fears that perhaps the creatures somehow knew who he was, somehow knew what Gwen meant to him and had somehow snatched her away.

Drawing closer he sensed an odd sort of energy faintly emanating from the tower. He circled the structure but noticed nothing out of the ordinary. As he had done the previous night, he landed, catlike on the glass and clambered up the side of the building, peering into the various windows. The boffins may have worked late on a Thursday but Friday night into Saturday morning had done a much better job of clearing the place. Only a very few researchers remained in their labs, a skeleton staff seemed to be cleaning or maintaining equipment and the conference rooms seemed universally empty.

Just before Peter crawled as high as the thirty-fourth floor, the odd energy he'd sensed seemed to feel more tangible. He peered more carefully into the darkened section of window he'd just clambered on to and felt as if his heart might stop.

There on the floor, surrounded by tiny shards of what was unmistakably broken glass, lay Gwen, face down, utterly inert. Was she breathing? Peter couldn't immediately tell. He hammered on the bullet-proof, triple glazed pane with all his might. No response. He had to get to her.

"Gwen!" he yelled, though he knew it to be pointless. "Gwen!"

In his frustration and fear, the fear that felt just like an icy fist around his heart, Peter slammed his forehead against the pane.

Instantaneously he sensed movement and another wave of that strange energy. He raised his eyes to look ahead. No Gwen. All he could see were the sparkling shards of glass. Something made him raise his eyes further. There above him, clinging to the ceiling of the conference room in her gym gear, her face obscured by her dangling blonde hair, was Gwen. And from the nape of her neck dangled an almost imperceptible silky strand. And on the end of the silky strand dangled a very familiar looking spider.

* * *

_So, what do you think? Is this gonna be an ok direction for things to take?_

_Let me tell you that this new improved Gwen would have something to say to the pain-in-the-neck potential employer who called me back in for no less than THREE interviews for an advertised THREE day a week job that they ended up giving to someone was available to work FOUR days. As it turns out, I passionately didn't want the job anyway, I just really wanted to be offered it so that I could turn it down. It SUCKS not being offered a job that you had super high-horse plans to say no to. I was all ready to reject them and they rejected me first! Where can I get me a genetically enhanced spider?_

_PLEASE review and provide a glint of sunshine in my inbox on a gloomy and depressing day, but be kind peeps, to quote Mr McFly, both Snr and Jnr, "I just don't think I could handle THAT kind of rejection," after all the other rejection that's been going around today..._


	13. Chapter 13

Peter could not believe what he was seeing. His knee-jerk reaction was to once more smack his forehead hard against the window, just to check he wasn't still lying on the glass ceiling above the courthouse in some kind of psychedelic coma.

He wasn't.

The dull thud must have caught Gwen's attention because now she was staring down at him from her inverted perspective, her eyes wild.

Peter wanted to shake her. How could she be so stupid?

She clambered nimbly down the wall.

Peter could only watch as Gwen went to open the drawer of the credenza that ran along the side of the room and ended up flinging its entire contents across the room. Had he not been so furious, he might have laughed as she went to pull the lid off the Sharpie she had grabbed and ended up snapping the marker in half.

She very carefully took a second marker and gingerly retrieved a sheet of paper from the mess on the floor. She seemed to adjust to her newfound super-strength quicker than he had done. He supposed she had the stories of his mistakes to learn from. With great care she spelled something out on the sheet and held it to the window for him to read.

"You're alive!" she'd scrawled across the page.

Peter shrugged. With his mask on and stuck to the side of a skyscraper as he was, he had little ability to convey much emotion in response.

She took the paper back and scribbled some more before raising it up again. Before he'd had a chance to scan the seven words she'd written, she'd whipped it back and added three more.

_Out front. Ten minutes. In your suit. Your other suit._

Peter nodded in resignation. Had she been able to see his face, she mightn't have been in such a rush to get that sound-proof glass out from between them.

.

Five minutes later, Peter was back in his navy blue suit, pacing angrily back and forth outside Oscorp's huge doors. He felt hot with rage at Gwen's rash decision and, deeper down, utterly horrified with himself for letting this happen. An odd sensation came over him, unfamiliar, but not unpleasant, and a moment later Gwen appeared, back in her dress and heels, her hair now hanging loose over her shoulders. She made her way towards him, her expression nervous.

"What the _hell_, Gwen?" Peter was almost shouting, before she'd even stepped across the threshold. "What the hell are you trying to do?"

"Peter," she began, quietly, but Peter had no time to hear her. He grabbed the back of her arm above her elbow and marched her aggressively away from the glass doors.

"Are you out of your mind?" he was speaking much more quietly now, looking around to be sure no one was around, but she had never heard him sound angrier. "That spider could have killed you!"

"Peter," Gwen tried to interject, but he was having none of it.

"Do you think this is easy for me? Do you think this is fun?" he fumed, still propelling her along the deserted sidewalk, his grip on her arm tightening. "I mean, I've been trying to keep you _safe_, Gwen!"

Peter dropped his head and began muttering mostly to himself. "I should never have let this happen. I can't_ believe_ this is happening."

Gwen sighed. "_Peter_."

She watched him silently clenching and unclenching his jaw.

Then Peter spoke, his voice tight with emotion. "He… he saved my life, Gwen. His chest, well, it had been… _shredded_. He lay there, _knowing _he was dying, and he looked me right in the eye and he made me promise him that I would leave you out of it."

Gwen was no longer trying to interject. She watched him intently, suddenly sharply hawk-like, somehow urging him to continue without a gesture or a word.

"I made the promise," Peter shrugged without nonchalance, "what else could I have done? But Gwen, _I wept_. For Connors, for your dad, for you – I knew how devastated you would be, and that I wouldn't be able to be there for you – but mostly, I was weeping for _me_. How was I going to give you up?"

The seriousness of Gwen's piercing gaze was unchanged by his appeal.

"I tried, didn't I?" Peter asked, his palms facing upwards in anguished helplessness. "You and I both know that I kept away from you for a whole year. I was _miserable_!"

Gwen looked down.

"I should have said no when you came over that night. I should never have let myself break that promise." Peter shook his head in horror. "Oh man, imagine if your dad could have seen what I just saw."

Since her father had entered the equation, Gwen felt a heat building up in her head. She decided she had taken quite enough. She effortlessly slipped out of Peter's grip and jumped back to get a little distance between them. Peter spun around to face her. Without thinking, Gwen made a fist and socked him soundly right in the jaw. The impact of her punch threw Peter back several meters into the middle of the deserted street.

"Peter," she said, quiet and dangerous. "Firstly, some things in this world, in my life, are _not_ all about you. Secondly, as you've just reminded me, my dad's not here to do this, so I'm going to have to. I hereby relinquish you of your burdensome obligation to keep me safe. " And she turned on her heel and stalked off.

Peter lay in the icy slush in the middle of the empty street rubbing his jaw. Not since before all this, since Flash, had anyone caught him with a hook powerful enough to flatten him like that. And Flash hadn't even come close to making that kind of an impact.

Peter watched Gwen walking away and mused momentarily on his behaviour. Perhaps he hadn't expressed his concerns in the most helpful of ways. He scrambled to his feet and chased after her, catching up to walk alongside her more peaceably this time. Her hand flew to her face in a movement he recognised. Instead of the set jaw and flashingly defiant eyes that he'd expected after throwing a punch like that, Gwen's tears flowed freely.

He thought to speak, to explain, to try to take back the words he spoke about her father's death, to try to salvage them for another time, a better time.

"I'm sorry," was all he had to offer, half-jogging to keep up with her.

"You deserved that, you know," she said without slowing down.

"I know," Peter replied weakly.

"You have some things to tell me one day and I need you to think about what you're going to say and how you're going to say it."

Peter nodded.

She walked on in silence for a while.

"Anyway, that whole thing at Oscorp, I was going to save you," Gwen shrugged. "Looks like that was a bust."

Peter tried to look into her face to catch her expression. Despite her obvious grief, she wore a small wry smile.

"Well, thanks for trying?"

Gwen stopped and threw her arms around him. Peter felt the change even in her embrace, her grip of him before had felt weak and ineffectual compared to this. He slid his arms around her waist and held her close, revelling in the firm arms that held him back. Within an instant they pulled back and stared at each other.

"What's that hum?" Gwen whispered.

"Or is it a vibration?" Peter wondered aloud.

Gwen's mouth dropped open. "Peter," she hissed, eyes wide. "I can feel you," she placed her hands on her chest, "_in here_."

Peter felt it too, impossible though it was to precisely describe, Gwen was somehow not just in his arms, but under his skin.

.

May Parker had enjoyed a wonderful night with Gwen's family. The boys were charming and playful, Gwen's mom was warm and hospitable, a real kindred spirit, and the whole evening had been delightful. But now it was almost 4am, she was in the kitchen drinking tea, and there was still no sign of Peter.

Truth be told, this was not all that unusual. Many a night she'd woken to hear him just coming in at some outrageous hour but tonight, having met the family, she felt like she somehow bore responsibility for Gwen too.

She remembered seeing a special on Oprah about teenagers hiring hotel rooms after the prom – would Peter be as premeditated as all that? Would Gwen? May shook her head sadly. Only in the most tragic of circumstances, the actual tragic circumstances of Peter's life, could the birds and the bees talk have fallen into her lap. Anyway, from what Oprah suggested, the ripe old age of seventeen was probably far too late to be making a start.

At last she heard the key turn in the lock and a weary looking Peter appeared in the hallway.

"Hey, Aunt May," he called softly, mindful of the hour. "Still awake?"

"Checking up on you, my dear," she replied, a twinkle in her eye. "Did you see Gwen safely home?"

Safe. Peter almost choked. "Yes, Aunt May," he replied. "Took her right to her door. Her mom was waiting up too."

"Mmm, probably watched the same Oprah episode that I did," May muttered under her breath.

"What did Oprah say this time?" Peter asked, chuckling.

May knew she shouldn't have been surprised that Peter heard her, she hadn't been able to get anything past him for a good eighteen months or so now.

She took a deep breath and confronted him. "Peter, did you and Gwen go to a hotel after the dance?"

Peter's eyes widened and he was momentarily speechless. He thought about what had actually transpired in the hours after he left the dance. It was certainly monumental, but not on the level that Aunt May was imagining.

"No!" he finally managed to sputter. "We just walked around for a bit!" It was half true. "What made you think we had?"

"Oh, nothing," May responded. "You know, kids these days."

Peter grinned.

"Gwen's a lovely girl, you know," May said. "I'd hate to think that the two of you might hurt each other by rushing into things you're not old enough to be ready for." May cursed herself for her failure to even get near a euphemism let alone what she really wanted to say.

Peter came to her rescue. "Aunt May? We've kind of got enough going on just being, um, just being seniors, you know?" He looked sincerely into her eyes. "If it makes you feel better to know, I can tell you truthfully that no, um, rushing of that kind has been going on." Peter's face flushed in such a way that convinced May that no further euphemisms would be required. They were definitely on the same page.

"And Aunt May?" he continued. "I really don't want to wreck anything with Gwen." He scratched his head. "Not sure if this is something you're average seventeen year old shares with his aunt, but I guess I've got no one else to tell and I want to tell someone." Peter smiled down at his shoes. "I'm in love with her, Aunt May."

May dabbed at her eyes with her tea towel. "I know, Peter. I know."

.

In a matter of ten or so minutes, Peter lay sprawled on his bed in his shorts, indifferent to the bitter cold streaming through his open window.

_Gwen?_ he asked in the quiet of his own mind. _Did you hear that?_

_Awkward, huh? _he heard in response. _Oh, and Peter?_

_Hmm?_

_I love you too._

_._

* * *

.

_Ok, help me out readers, (if you're still out there after that?) What will SpiderGwen go by? Spiderwoman? Spidergirl? A non-gender-specific SpiderPerson? Other ideas? Any thoughts? I am totally uncertain. _

_If you've got the suggestion I end up using, you get at least ten figurative gold stars. I know that figurative gold stars aren't worth the non-existent gold shiny paper that they're not printed on these days, but still, I'd appreciate the help!_

_Also, here's another bit of audience participation for those who feel so inclined. I've only got one more week of commuting, which is when all this stuff gets written and, I must confess, after I post this up, there are no more pre-written words ready to go! I'm flying by the seat of my pants week by week! I've got the vaguest of directions I'm heading in and the smallest amount of time to write it all in. So, let me know what you're enjoying and what you're not enjoying. _

_Cast your votes – if you had to have more of one of the following than any of the other elements, would you want:_

_a) more fluff/romance _

_b) more angst _

_c) more plot type intrigue _

_d) more crime-fighting and butt-kicking _

_Thanks so much, fabulous reviewers. You are the peeps who make all of this fun for me! This chapter is dedicated to .792, YoungLadyBug (and thanks for the joke!), Curly Wurly Me and CrazyCoffeeKat (you outrageously magnificent returning reviewer, you!) _

_And if any of you have any sway with _nine miles to go_, can you PLEASE get her to post up the next chapter of _Reckless_? I'm compulsively checking the dark fanfic corner of my email account (somewhat secretively labelled "Creative Expression") just as much for a new chapter notification from her as for my much craved reviews! If you're not reading her, get on it! Peter and Gwen FTW! _


	14. Chapter 14

Gwen's eyes flew open in the bright cold light of the November morning.

_Hey. You're up on the roof._

_Yeah, I got breakfast for us. Get dressed and come up?_

_Is it cold out there?_

_I never notice anymore._

_Wow. I hope it'll be like that for me too. I'm sick of losing gloves._

_Come up and find out. Your coffee's getting cold._

_I'm coming! I'm coming!_

_Gwen?_

_Yeah?_

_Can't wait to see you._

_This is nice though._

_Yeah. Amazing._

Gwen pushed open the heavy door and found Peter leaning against the wall where they'd first kissed more than a year ago. He was holding two take-away coffees and a paper bag marked with the familiar logo of Peter's favourite café, the one he'd taken her to on their suit shopping date only a fortnight before.

_How is it that we've had so much time and so little time?_

_I know, I was just thinking the same thing._

"Hey," Peter greeted her, grinning and holding out a large steaming coffee.

"Hey," Gwen replied, conscious of the different quality of their voices in the open air.

"So, are you feeling the cold?"

Gwen yawned and stretched in the chilly morning. She watched the fog made by her breath. "Nope!"

"Thought so. There's no way I'd be getting about in spandex in the middle of the night in January if I were."

Peter offered her the bag and in it she found an assortment of her favourite pastries.

"You're the best," she somehow got out round a huge mouthful. "I'm starving!"

"So, I don't think I got to tell you as many times as I needed to how far beyond beautiful you looked last night," Peter grinned.

She got through her mouthful before replying. "Not so much when you found me dangling from the ceiling though, right?"

Peter was quiet for a moment. _Even then._ He smiled. "Got something else for you."

"Coffee, pastries _and_ gifts?" she laughed, mock incredulous.

Peter pulled a small cardboard box out of his pocket and offered it to her.

She placed her coffee carefully on the top of the wall and took it from him. _What's this?_

_Something you're gonna need._

In the box lay two unmistakeably complex-looking bands. Gwen looked up at him in surprise.

"They're not exactly aesthetically pleasing," Peter shrugged.

"Wow," she tried to move through her awe towards laughter. "Well, sometimes a girl needs functionality." She paused for a moment. "This is a total shock, Peter. After the way you reacted last night, I would have been less surprised to find a troupe of dancing leprechauns in here!"

Peter scratched the back of his neck. "I'm sorry about how I reacted, Gwen. I was thinking about it last night while you were asleep." He meet her gaze intently. "Your first reaction last night was to sacrifice yourself for me. You took a calculated risk – even if I do think there was a lot more risk than calculation – and you were prepared to alter your whole life, your very DNA, to keep me alive." He paused. "You saved me from the school bully and you saved the whole city from biological warfare." Gwen looked down, bashful in the face of Peter's praise, praise she didn't feel she deserved from him of all people, but he ducked his head lower to find her eyes. "Don't doubt it, Gwen. You are easily the bravest person I know." He nuzzled her face with his own, cat-like, and gently brushed her lips with his. For a long moment they stood on the exact site of their first kiss, just as lost in one another, just as excited by one another, just as oblivious to everything else.

There was something else new in the way they touched. It wasn't just that Gwen's physical presence and strength had changed, there was something different between them. Peter felt that more was being conveyed than the kisses and caresses which, though incredible, seemed simple in comparison. Something new was happening inside him. He tried to concentrate on the sensation but he couldn't quite pin it down. He heard Gwen's voice in his head, though his mouth was still pressed on hers.

_You feel that too?_ Even her voice in his head sounded as breathless as he felt.

_Everything feels different._

_Mmmm, but great._

And he gave up on thinking for a little while longer.

When they finally broke apart, Gwen found some icicles forming on the lid of her takeaway coffee.

"Do Spiderpeople have microwave vision?"

"Not that I've discovered so far," Peter mused. "Don't think that's generally been a feature of the biological profile of either homosapiens or arachnids…"

"Bummer. Want to go inside and get a fresh one?"

"Sure."

Gwen gathered up the coat that Peter had slipped off her shoulders, the bag of now solid pastries and the cardboard box he'd given her. "Do you think I'm gonna be able to learn how to use these?"

Peter laughed as he followed her across the rooftop towards the internal stairs. "Ok, so there's a day I'll never forget. Do you remember how awkwardly and uselessly and lamely I asked you out that first time?"

"The day you smashed the backboard? What does that have to do with anything?" Gwen giggled, then sighed, melodramatically clutching the pastries to her chest. "That feeling when the boy you have a huge crush on turns out to like you back? Not a day I'll easily forget either."

Peter shook his head, laughing. "Man, I love that you remember it like that. All I really remember is being this huge ball of nerves, stammering, spluttering, trying to ask you on some kind of date and, on the spot, coming up with a whole zero ideas of things we could do." A broad grin spread across Peter's face. "And then you said yes! Neither of us were sure what you'd actually agreed to but that was even better 'cause I knew that even though I'd just massively stuffed it up, the one thing you'd clearly agreed to was that you did actually want to go out with me!"

"You shmuck. Of course I wanted to go out with you."

Peter feigned annoyance. "You could have saved me a lot of pain by just telling me that at the time."

Gwen grinned. "No fun in that! If someone has to put their pride on the line, I think it should always be you. Anyway, I still don't understand what this has to do with my present."

Peter took the box from her and carefully fitted a band onto each of her wrists while he explained. "Well, to put it lightly, I was ecstatic. I was free of Flash. I was on my way to meet with Dr Connors at Oscorp for the first time and you, Gwen Stacey, the girl I'd been in love with since freshman bio, _must_ have liked me to let me get through that whole speech and still agree to go out with me." He held both her hands in his, and his sleeves rode up with the motion of his arms, revealing a glimpse of the matching bands on his own wrists. "How do they feel?"

Gwen flexed her fingers, clenching and unclenching her fists. "Good, but I still don't get…"

"I went skating later that day near the docks and I might has well have been flying. Tricks I'd been trying to get on top of for ages were coming so easily. I could jump, I could climb, I could swing, the things my body could suddenly do that I could never have done before! I learnt everything so quickly, Gwen. So," he looked into her eyes, suddenly serious, "Have you got the day free?"

She nodded.

"Here's what I propose. I'm just gonna show you the way that I do things. I didn't have anyone to show me what I could do, so I just had to figure it out myself. You'll need to work out your own way of doing things, I'm not exactly gonna _teach_ you anything, but that way you can just try everything and see what feels natural for you." He paused. "Sound okay?"

Gwen planted a sudden kiss on him and delayed her response for several minutes.

_Let's go._

"Gwen, wait."

"What is it?"

"I've got one more thing for you." He reached into his backpack and pulled out another little package.

Gwen only had to lift one edge of the paper to sight the scarlet spandex. She gasped. "When on earth did you make this?"

Peter laughed. "I've kind of gotten into the habit of trying to be a few suits ahead of myself, they keep getting ripped in awkward places. Anyway, I just adjusted one for you last night. No idea if it's gonna work."

"Wow," Gwen grew thoughtful. "I hadn't quite processed all of this. You're ok to share your symbol with me? For everyone to associate me with you? I mean Spider-me with Spider-you?"

Peter shrugged. "Of course! How else would we do it?"

Still thoughtful, Gwen fingered the shiny fabric. "You're Spiderman, should I be Spiderwoman?" She thought a moment, a distant expression on her face. "Maybe Spiderwoman sounds a bit matronly… I get why you've gone with Spiderman instead of Spiderboy, but I think I'd feel better about being Spidergirl."

Peter laughed. "Is this a private conversation or can anyone join?"

Gwen swatted him playfully on the arm. It really hurt. "Tell me, what do _you_ think?"

"Yeah, Spidergirl is good. Spiderman and Spidergirl." He took her in his arms and kissed her. "And so begins an office romance of the least conventional kind."

"If the suit fits!" she laughed.

"Yeah well, I know the lack of microwave eyes is disappointing, but if I'm anything to go by, you're gonna find yourself quite the seamstress. I think I'm gonna knit you a scarf next."

Gwen shook her head, laughing. "Oh Peter, what have we done?"

"Yeah, who knows…"

.

* * *

.

_So, I straight away got these three awesome reviews from Lauren, CrazyCoffeeKat (Ten gold stars!) and countrygirl1989 (who turns out to be another one of those returning reviewers that I like so much). They were all fairly enthusiastic about the fluff idea, so I thought I'd whip out a fairly fluffy chapter just for them. _

_What say you, oh elusive audience? Are you liking the direction of this? And you can still have your say in the future of this whole thing – See? I'm being responsive to my feedback!_

_So, again, cast your votes – if you had to have more of one of the following than any of the other elements, would you want:_

_a) more fluff/romance _

_b) more angst _

_c) more plot type intrigue _

_d) more crime-fighting and butt-kicking _

_Ok, let me play Alexander for a little while. (Do you guys have "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day" in whatever countries you're in? It's a winner.) Last night we had a big storm and our house leaked. I hate leaks. Today I had to supervise kids in assembly and I hate assembly. My favourite red sandals are breaking, my backpack is too heavy and I made myself a thermos of tea for my two hour trip home but it was too weak. I hate weak tea. I think I'll move to Timbuktu." _

_Or, I have an idea! Maybe you could drop me a review!? (I know. I'm shameless. But this is what makes it fun for me!)_


	15. Chapter 15

Peter lay on his bed almost crying with laughter as Gwen, clad from head to toe in her new Spidergirl outfit, gave her most outrageous impersonation of Peter in combat. Aunt May was at work so they'd taken the opportunity to draw the blinds and stage a costume fitting. Peter had laid the suit out on his bed and chivalrously announced that he'd head downstairs to get on with his chemistry homework and that Gwen should call him when she was ready.

At first, she'd been a bit bashful. The clingy fabric left very little to the imagination and her initial impulse was to hold her arms across her chest and stand with her back to the wall.

"Peter!" she squeaked as he walked in. "Don't look!"

He obediently slapped a hand across his eyes. "This isn't a good start!" He peered out from between his fingers. "Is it all wrong?"

But Peter had a done a good job. There were no obviously saggy bits and she looked as though the suit had been made to fit her exact proportions.

"Man, how do you walk around in this? In front of people?"

"You get used to it. Want me to get mine on? Then we'll both look as weird as each other."

"Ok, go ahead. Should I go and get on with the chem readings?" Gwen asked.

"No! The front windows!"

"Oh yeah. I'll just turn my back."

"You won't even need to," Peter laughed. In what seemed to Gwen like no time at all, Peter went from standing still with one hand just beginning to yank on the back of the neck of his shirt, to Spiderman.

"That was fast!"

"You'll get used to that too."

Gwen giggled nervously. "So, Spiderman, here we are!"

"Here we are. How's it feel, Spidergirl?"

"Well, somehow your near nudity makes me feel a little bit better about my near nudity."

"No wonder people get so upset about the declining standards of public television."

Gwen cracked up and came over to stand next to him in front of the mirror. "Is that really me under there?"

"Yeah, it's weird isn't it?" Peter agreed. "Your mannerisms and the way you move and hold yourself are distinctly you, but the suit and the mask makes you so anonymous."

"Are you talking about me or you?" Gwen asked.

"Both of us, I guess."

Gwen threw her red arm around Peter's shoulders as they looked at themselves in the mirror. "No one I'd rather be anonymous with than you, pal."

"Me neither."

It was at this point that Gwen had begun dancing about the room striking faux martial arts poses.

"Do I really look like that?" Peter laughed, sinking onto his bed.

"_Exactly_ like this," Gwen chuckled, still jumping around. "I used to watch these news clips of you on youtube over and over again when we were apart. Anything just to see you, make sure you were ok. You always looked so powerful, so agile." She pulled a Neo pose. "Just like this, right?" she joked. "Powerful? Agile?"

Just in the way that he remembered it happening to him, Peter watched Gwen moving from her head into her body. He remembered the strength and the power he had suddenly felt in his limbs and the struggle to adjust to his new inability to sit still. Other than on the dancefloor, he'd never seen Gwen this playful before or this active before. It was _so_ appealing.

"So, shall we go and find somewhere quiet for you to learn how to use these things?" Peter asked, indicating his wrists, getting up and shaking his head as if to clear it.

"Sure, where you wanna go?" Gwen asked, throwing playful punches at him that were only just failing to connect at the last instant.

"The docks where I worked it out?" Peter asked, turning away from her to grab his backpack. "There are a few warehouses down there that don't get used much."

He turned back to find Gwen standing in extremely close proximity. "Sure," Gwen said, sliding her gloved hands around his waist. "Wow, I always wanted to be able to do this, but I never imagined that I'd be in one of these suits too." She laughed and Peter could feel the movement of her body against his in a way that didn't feel quite conducive to them ever leaving the house.

He took a step back and yanked off his hood. "Umm, Gwen?"

"Yeah?" she responded, yanking hers off too, her blonde hair spilling over her slight shoulders.

"I love you, right?"

She grinned. "Right."

"And part of that," Peter continued, "is because I find you extremely attractive."

Gwen blushed and her grin grew wider still. "Thanks."

"And so I can foresee a little problem that I'm going to have with these suits."

Gwen's smile faded a little. "Oh?"

"Can we make a little rule?" Peter asked tentatively. "It'll really help me out."

"Okay," Gwen responded. "What's the rule?"

"Can we agree that, just while we're in our suits, we treat one another more like brother and sister than boyfriend and girlfriend?"

Gwen looked baffled. "I don't get it."

Peter sighed, reddening. "Are you gonna make me spell it out?"

Gwen shrugged, palms up, "I guess you're gonna have to?"

"Ok, you're too much for me in that suit. Everything is too tight, too close, too amazing. If we're alone and I let myself put my hands on you in that suit, all these gentlemanly resolves I've been making are going to be pretty difficult to stick to."

"Gentlemanly resolves, huh?" Gwen grinned. "Peter, you're pretty weird. I guess I falling in love with you makes me pretty weird too."

Peter laughed. "Probably. But the rule? Can we agree to it?"

Gwen nodded decisively. "No spandex snuggles. Our snuggles are to be a spandex-free zone."

"You're paying me out, aren't you."

Gwen's eyes grew wide and innocent-looking. "Why would I be paying you out?"

* * *

Within half-an-hour Gwen was perched half-way up the wall of an enormous, empty warehouse perfecting her aim with the biocables. As Peter had predicted, she was doing awesomely. Already she was almost as capable as him in slinging the cables, climbing, swinging, landing. Any prior fear of heights she might have had was in no way evident in the way she flung her body out over the cavernous deserted space and concrete floor below. Within a few minutes of their arrival she had momentarily forgotten the biocable dispensers and, just for fun, swung herself monkey-bar style down the widely spaced frame of iron girders that held up the roof. She was fluid and graceful and incredibly strong.

_I think I'm getting this._

Peter looked up at her perched near the ceiling. _You definitely are._

_It's like being back at gymnastics. Man, I used to love that._

_How old were you?_

_I probably gave it up when I was about nine to join Titration Club._

Peter shook his head. _Titration Club? At nine?_

_What were you doing when you were nine?_

He laughed. _Probably pretending to be a super hero._

_So, are you going to try to hit me?_

_What?_

_How am I going to really find out what it's like to be Spidergirl if we just swing around and have polite conversation?_

_Granted. I'm not going to hit you but I'll at least try to catch you, okay?_

Before Gwen even saw Peter move, he was right beside her.

"Far out," she breathed. "How did you get that fast?"

"You're that fast too, you know."

Gwen looked uncertain.

"Ok, you try to catch me this time."

Had a passer-by wandered in to the warehouse, perhaps to find the source of the shrieks and giggles emanating from within, it wouldn't even have been a given that she would have sighted anything other than the occasional blue and red streak.

At last, Gwen caught him and pinned him down on a pressed metal staircase landing.

"Gotcha," she cried triumphantly.

"Mercy!" Peter squeaked. She began to lean towards him. "Remember the rule, Gwen!"

Gwen rocked back on her heels and rose to her feet. "Yeah, yeah. Spandex equals snuggle-free zone."

"Thank you. So, it is my turn to catch you now?"

She was already gone.

_If you like, you can try._

* * *

.

.

_Bit of a lark, eh? You likey? You no likey? If you haven't picked up a theme from these little appendices yet, reviews make me really really happy and consequently make me post a greater quantity of story and make me post it more quickly! If you like more words and less waiting time, what have you got to lose? Think of it like tossing a coin to a busker, tipping your waiter, thanking your bus driver, clapping at the end of a performance, making an anonymous author's day! _

_Ok, who likes a quiz? Just took the opportunity to use some public transport time with only my smart phone for company to re-read my whole published story thus far and found some cheeky little references you may or may not have picked up. Here are the quiz questions, post your answers in a review (what? you mean you want reviews?) and I'll announce the winner with your points out of ten and throw the correct answers into my little epistle at the end of the next chapter._

_I recognise that it's possible that none of you like quizzes. That's ok. Surely the humiliation of no-one participating will be character building!?_

_In Chapter 3, which British novel and North American movie gets quoted in reference to Gwen? You get a point for a) title, b) author of novel, c) name of actor who plays the guy I'm quoting._

_Later in Chapter 3 I appropriated a quote (though whether or not this quote even really came from this person is disputed, but anyway…) from a famous anthropologist. d)What's the line and e) who's the anthropologist?_

_f) Chapter 6 - This is a bit obscure because the appropriation is quite extreme but can you pick the fleeting Gilbert and Sullivan reference? Aaron Sorkin would be so proud… _

_Chapter 10 – Can you find the line from a pop song famous earlier this millennia? Here are some clues: the song features the words "Thursday" and "hot chocolate" and Mos Def appears in the music video. Ok, so you totally have the resources you need to Google it now… Anyway, hit us with g) the quote I used, h) the artist and i) the song title._

_j) Judging by my vernacular, which country do you think I'm writing from?_

_I wonder if any of you will have a go? I'm genuinely intrigued!_

_Super appreciating the multiple review love from KronosSlayer21 who not only has an awesome and appropriate username for a fanfic site but also turns out to be a returning, albeit taciturn, reviewer. I'm hoping KronosSlayer21, that you'll appreciate me just randomly throwing in the line, "I too know the love of a taciturn man." I'm gonna go out on a limb and assume that there's a reference in your handle there that will suggest you probably know and love that line. Anyway, (a) and (d) for you my friend, just give me time to work up the (d) – it's not too far away!_

_And CrazyCoffeeKat, your reviews rock. Day improved thanks to your input. Thanks for being unfailingly enthusiastic! I wonder how you'll find this as a "training scene"? And yes, am planning some butt kicking, but maybe not exactly as you describe. Ooh! Intrigue!_

_Welcome to my new reviewer highlander348 who comes bearing fabulous plot suggestions. Lots of fun to have an interactive audience! As I suggested to highlander348, if anyone out there feels let down by these developments at any point along the way and wants to write their own version of events (fanfiction of my fanfiction as it were), feel free! How chuffed would I be!? Sorry to repeat the joke, dude, but the others might appreciate it – you could create a spin-off! (Spidey? Spin? wokka wokka wokka)_

_Welcome also to new reviewers pianogirl3746, the relatively anonymous but enthusiastic "Guest", WinterRain36 (I'm looking forward to seeing if you like what I've got coming up. I know what you want and I __**think**__ you'll like this but I guess we'll see! See me giving you permission to write your own version if you don't approve?) and kitkat – loving the support!_

_pianogirl3746, I hope you'll come around to my plot decision and I hope you've enjoyed the fluff above ;)_

_Thanks all!_


	16. Chapter 16

It wasn't until Peter and Gwen wandered back into that same favourite café of Peter's to grab some lunch that they saw the news bulletins on the overhead screens. After leaving Peter prone on the rooftop of the court house and disappearing into the sky, the birdmen had resurfaced in nearby Philadelphia and wreaked havoc on the city's homeless.

Gwen nearly retched at the gruesome images that accompanied the report. Yet another gory feast in which homeless and vulnerable men and women were torn limb from limb and partially consumed. She stood staring at the screen, clenching and unclenching her fists.

"When they come back tonight, there'll be two of us," Gwen hissed.

Her words snapped Peter out of his fury and straight into the tattered shreds of promise-keeping mode that were left to him.

"Gwen! On what planet are you ready for this?"

Her eyes flashed defiantly. "It didn't occur to you that this might happen? You didn't think that something might get in the way of our romantic plans for the evening?" She gestured towards the screen in exasperation. "Two nights in a row they attack and you thought they might just have a night off tonight?"

_Gwen? Maybe keep your voice down?_

_It's not your job to keep me safe anymore, Peter! Both of us have your job now. We have to stop these monsters!_

The two of them flopped down in a booth like any other pair of teenagers and perused the menu. Only by the gritted teeth and flashing eyes could a casual observer have sensed the turmoil beneath the surface of their silence.

_Gwen, can you just see reason for one minute? You haven't used the biocables out in the city yet! Believe me, it is a totally different experience to be exposed, to be seen and to have your life in danger!_

Gwen took a moment to respond. She had to concede that he had point. Until her fist connected with Peter's jaw the previous evening, she had never even thrown a punch.

"Peter," Gwen whispered, "Look, I'll stay out of sight. I'll support you with webs and whatever else I can do. If they go to knock you down again, I'll stay low but follow them. No one's seen me yet. While no one's expecting me, we might have our only chance to find out where they go, where they came from."

Peter looked greatly relieved at this turn of events, quickly casting eyes left and right to make sure no one was listening. "Great plan," he nodded. "But if they knock me down, I'm telling you now that I'm gonna close my mind to you. I don't want you worrying about whether or not I'm getting up, ok?"

Gwen nodded.

"As soon as it seems like a good idea, I'll get back to you and do what I can." He smiled weakly. "Are you _sure_ you're up to this?"

Gwen looked grim. "What other option do we have?"

* * *

The evening seemed to come far too soon. Peter took up his usual post on top of Oscorp Tower and Gwen surreptitiously clambered as high as she could get, nestled between the art deco column-effect embellishments of a neighbouring tower.

_You ok, Gwen?_

_Can you see me?_

_Nope, but I know you're there._

_I can see you. Have I told you how hot you look in that suit? Great arms, Peter._

_Shucks._

_Well, great everything, actually._

_Stop it, you're making me blush._

_It's pretty well hidden under the mask._

_You gonna be ok if I have to keep you out for a while?_

_Well, I'll miss the banter._

_I'm serious, Gwen. You'll be on your own for a while._

_I'm serious too. Do you trust me?_

A moment of silence.

_I'm touched by your overwhelming confidence, Peter._

_They're here._

And the battle began. Peter was set upon by the creatures who immediately chased him off the roof of Oscorp and into the labyrinth below. Gwen watched as Peter swung past her hiding spot, surprised to find herself unafraid. She had tasted her own strength and speed and was aware that she knew only a fraction of what she could do. She was itching for action but conscious of Peter's caution. He was the one who had been here before, she couldn't entirely write-off his experience.

The creatures loomed into view.

_Go._

The two of them simultaneously launched a volley of webs from opposing angles. The sheer volume of webbing that hit one of the creatures overwhelmed it and it plummeted, shrieking, towards the earth. With no concern whatever for their fallen comrade, the two remaining creatures remained relentlessly focused on Peter, entirely failing to notice Gwen's contribution. They circled lower and Peter swung further towards the ground, a significant distance from Gwen's vantage point.

_Gwen, whatever you do, stay out of sight. Don't come down, I'm going to try to bring the fight back up to you._

Gwen watched on as Peter did all he could to draw the birds upwards. At every spin, every swing, the creatures cut him off, blocked his way, snapped his webs.

_Ok, Gwen. Keep your eyes open. I'm gonna let them knock me down and I'll stay down._

_I love you, Peter._

_Stay safe._

And within a moment or two, just like the previous night, she watched him fall and land, though this time she had the bird's eye view. His still body looked awkward from her viewing platform. And then she realised what was happening. Like the carrion birds they were, the creatures didn't just want to knock Peter down. They wanted to feed on his flesh.

She inched gingerly forward to get a better view of Peter, crumpled on the dirty rooftop of an apartment block that looked like it hadn't been ventured up onto for decades. Would she need to intervene?

Just as she was about to fire a web to distract Peter's assailants, and surely give herself away, the now familiar whistle sounded and the creatures turned dumbly from their would-be meal to follow its call.

Gwen hung back for a moment and after a last glance at Peter, the eyes of his mask staring vacantly up at her, she carefully and quietly swung out after them, keeping as much as she could to the shadowy nooks and crannies of New York architecture.

She was utterly focused on pursuing these monsters and also on drawing as little attention to herself as possible. They flew on silently through the city showing no sign of slowing or turning. Gwen estimated that they must have covered fifty or sixty city blocks before the birds began their descent. Gwen peered down into the gloom on the outskirts of the city and tried to establish their target. A dingy park opened up beneath them that was no doubt just as dark at midday as it was now, so surrounded was it by skyscrapers. Even from her great height, Gwen could make out the shabbily attired bodies shuffling round a makeshift soup kitchen. She needed to warn the people on the ground. Without giving it a second thought, she fished her phone out of her boot and dialled 911. "Moncreif Park Soup Kitchen. Those bird creatures are attacking the homeless here! Please, send anyone you can!"

Even before she'd hung up, Gwen swung herself through the darkness and fired webs to disable the hideous creatures, immediately ducking out of sight. Simultaneously, a squad of police vehicles screeched onto the scene and police clad in riot gear and armed with rifles began spilling out, forming a phalanx around the bewildered citizens of the street.

The creatures seemed baffled, uncertain whether to go in for the kill or to rise up into the sky and flee. At the first sound of gunfire, Gwen flattened herself against the wall of the building to which she clung. The shooters were cautious given their densely populated surroundings but their aim was true and one of the creatures was hit. It recoiled at the impact and let out an inhuman screech of pain.

Gwen seemed to sense the darkness just before it hit. Yet again, there was a total New York blackout. Rather than panicking as she had previously, this time Gwen centered herself and felt, as it were, the direction the creatures pursued in the inky black. In the quiet of her mind, in the split second of darkness, she honed in on the laboured and irregular wing beat of the injured bird and threw herself into pursuit.

Though all around her was black, she could feel the shape or the vibration of the structures around her and, while literally flying blind, found herself even more keenly aware of her surroundings. With zen-like focus, she flung out web after web, gaining on her targets. As the lights flickered back on around her, she found herself far from the park but still in step with the creatures. Even better, they still seemed oblivious to her presence.

She hung back as much as she dared, darting between buildings behind them, following wherever they led. The injured creature flew lower and almost imperceptibly slower than its companion. Gwen momentarily wondered what had become of the bird she and Peter had knocked out of the sky. Would its carcass have been found by now?

Her thoughts also darted to Peter but she knew what he wanted her to do, what he had entrusted her with and she wanted him to feel justified in placing his total faith in her so soon. The creatures flew further and further out of the centre of town, closer to the docks where she had Peter had spent most of the day.

As the skyscrapers began to clear and give way to empty space, Gwen was forced to hide and watch the creatures lumber onward, down towards what looked like a kind of parking lot for shipping containers.

It was then that she spotted the van, unmarked and discreet but unmistakeably hovering. Even from her great distance, Gwen was surprised to realise that she could read the plates and note the brand and model of the vehicle. She reached again for her phone, brought up the camera app and began filming. The rear double doors were open and the creatures flew straight in, slamming them shut from within. Gwen seized her opportunity and swung out of her hiding spot and down, landing directly above the cab. The impact obviously startled the driver and she heard the crunch of gears as the van roared into motion. Clinging on one-handed, without much in the way of real effort thanks to her spider-enhanced grip, Gwen lowered the phone over the edge of the van roof in line with the driver-side window. She took as much footage as she could of whoever was driving.

A man's fleshy hand reached out of the window to snatch at her but she easily evaded his grip, hoped she had all she needed and shot a web onto the crane above, swinging herself easily out of danger.

After sailing out of sight of the van and concealing herself in a deserted balcony she found herself hesitating. What should she do with the footage? Should she embrace her new identity and go as Spidergirl to the police? Or would it help Peter if she stayed concealed for now? She needed his advice on how to proceed.

It wasn't until now that she realised he'd never caught up with her. She was quietly proud to note how much she hadn't actually needed him but still, her mind turned towards the place where she'd left him and her body effortlessly followed.

_Peter?_

Nothing. She located the dingy apartment building and landed, crouched on the dark rooftop. Surely Peter would no longer be here but she felt a faint sort of energy and so she began to look. She rounded a large exhaust column in the centre of the rooftop and sighted the red toe of his boot.

"Peter!"

No response. He was utterly still, somehow even more motionless than he had been on the night of the dance. A good forty minutes must have passed since he'd fallen and here he lay. She went to grab at his shoulders, clasping him up into her arms. His head lolled and her hand flew up to support it. It was then that she felt the sticky wetness seeping through her glove. Blood.

.

.

* * *

.

_EEEEeeeeeeeeeeeek!_

_Thanks SO MUCH to all the reviewers. Let me welcome and thank my new friends Dragonskyt, my love addiction, sarahmichellegellarfan 1 an e. Thankee, thankee again to countrygirl1989, CrazyCoffeeKat and highlander348 - the speed of arrival and length of this chapter is all thanks to you! Some of you are liking, some of you are hating. What can you do? I guess that's the fun of being the author. Peter gets to be my ideal! _

_Special mention to another new reviewer, the fabulous M.K. Teirney, who was responsible for not one but four kind reviews waiting for me in a little block of awesomeness in my inbox. Not sure if you're up to this point yet but if you've steadily been reviewing every chapter as you go, by the time you hit here you're gonna be a definite favourite!_

_In my defence, highlander348, I think it is totally in character for Peter to want to be task-focused as Spiderman but recognise that some distractions are gonna be harder to avoid than others. Really, it was just for a bit of fun, but I'm worried that if you don't like this about my Spidey, there'll be some other stuff coming up that you're gonna loathe! countrygirl1989 and CrazyCoffeeKat have got my back on the spandex rule, anyway, right kids!?_

_And as for my hopeless attempt at quiz creation, here are the answers, just in case any of you were playing along at home. Also, it absolves me of the guilt associated with unoriginality. Now I'm citing my references!_

_a) High Fidelity_

_b) Nick Hornby_

_c) John Cusack_

_d) Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has. _

_e) Margaret Mead _

_f) The very model of a modern major general_

_g) Fly blue suit, cufflinks shiny and all bright_

_h) Alicia Keys_

_i) You Don't Know My Name_

_j) Australia_


	17. Chapter 17

Peter was still breathing but it seemed shallow and ragged.

While panic fought to take over, Gwen stilled her mind and tried to work out what to do. Should she, as Spidergirl. carry Spiderman to Emergency? Then everything would be blown. She couldn't make that decision on Peter's behalf.

She gently laid Peter's head back down on the dusty astroturf, took off, and, faster than she imagined possible, swung back into the alley where they'd stashed their backpacks. Back to the roof where Peter lay lifeless, Gwen steeled herself to remove his mask and assess the damage. She gingerly lifted the mask from his face and peeled it back to reveal his bare neck and head. A bad gash at the base of his skull, probably made by the claws of one of the creatures, but it didn't seem that he had lost a great deal of blood. What she couldn't hope to assess was how badly he'd been affected by the impact of his fall.

Not allowing herself to pay too much attention to what she was doing, she peeled off Peter's suit, section by section, and dressed him as quickly and efficiently as she could in his civilian clothes. She checked there was no trace of Spiderman on him, threw her own backpack over her shoulder, lifted Peter in her arms as though he weighed nothing and slung out a web that enabled her to lift the both of them off the rooftop and out into the night sky.

She touched down outside the sliding doors of the Emergency Department holding Peter close to her chest. She ran in with him and saw nurses rushing towards her. She didn't speak, simply offered an odd sort of salute and then rushed back out the doors and zipped away.

A few minutes later the nurses saw a panicked young woman sprinting into Emergency clutching a bloodied jacket.

"Peter?" she was screaming. "Peter! Did Spiderman just bring in a boy with a head injury?"

A nurse motioned her over and began questioning her calmly. "We want to help you as quickly as we can. Can you describe your friend for me?"

"My boyfriend!" the girl corrected, a hysterical edge to her voice.

"What does your boyfriend look like?"

"Tall, dark brown hair, brown eyes, athletic build, green jumper. This is his jacket – look at the blood!" She was barely stopping to take in a breath between sentences. "We were just mugged in an alley. Peter stepped in front of me but the guy pushed him back and he fell and he must have hit his head. I was trying to stop the bleeding, screaming for help and then Spiderman arrived, grabbed Peter and told me he'd bring him here."

"Ok," said the nurse in a reassuring voice. "We have your boyfriend here. He's in with the doctors now."

"Oh, thank God," sighed the girl, seeming to let out the breath she'd been holding since she'd run in. "Is he going to be alright?"

"Like I said, the doctors are tending to him. Now, your boyfriend has no ID on him. What is his full name, please? Peter?"

"Peter Parker," she sobbed. "The guy stole our wallets. Can I see him?"

"Not just yet. Soon, I hope," the nurse intoned sympathetically. "But we need your help contacting his next of kin. Are you able to provide those details?"

"Oh god. His Aunt May. Can I use the phone?"

"Of course," the sister said, turning the handset towards her.

Gwen's fingers trembled as she dialled Peter's home number. She was amazed at how much the simple act of covering her suit reduced her to the teenage girl she still was, terrified by the injuries Peter sustained.

The voice on the other end of the line was that of a woman clearly woken from a deep sleep. "Hello?"

"Mrs Parker? It's Gwen."

"Gwen?" she sounded confused. "What is it?"

"Oh, Mrs Parker, Peter and I were mugged. He's in the hospital and they're not letting me see him. Can you come?"

"Gwen, is he alright?"

Gwen paused. As she went to speak, her voice cracked. "I don't know."

May sounded terrified. "I'm on my way, Gwen. Stay with him, won't you?"

"Of course."

She hung up the phone and wandered aimlessly amongst the patients and family members in the Emergency waiting room. She was desperate to get in to see Peter. She even contemplated getting back into her suit to see if that would gain her entry. Half an hour later, a harried Aunt May appeared.

She was pale and shaky but her first words were to enquire after Gwen, taking the girl in her arms.

Gwen felt awful lying to Aunt May to explain Peter's injury, a story that cast him as hapless victim rather than hero. But what else could she do? Any other version of events would have been too suspicious.

The two women sat together silently, watching and waiting anxiously for any news. Gwen had called her mother to explain but reassured her that May Parker was with her and that there was no reason for her to try to find someone to watch over the sleeping boys at this late hour.

After what seemed like an eternity, a nurse approached and led them silently through the chaotic emergency department towards a quieter ward beyond. Through the glass they could see Peter sleeping peacefully in a bed at one end of the room but a doctor hoved into view and stood in front of the doorway between them and their goal.

"I'm Dr Hutchens," she said quietly. "You must be Peter's aunt and girlfriend."

The women nodded.

"I'm afraid that we have some grave concerns about Peter," she said and watched as both women, old and young, flicked their eyes straight over to where he lay. "We've tended to his head wound but in the hour and a half we've had him in our care, he has not yet regained consciousness."

"What does that mean, Doctor?" Aunt May asked tentatively. "When will he wake up?"

"We don't know, Mrs Parker. It's too early to say for sure at this point but, consistent with his head trauma, Peter looks as though he may be in a coma."

Gwen felt her hand fly to her mouth.

"A coma?" May repeated, sounding dazed.

"Obviously, we're not sure how long he'll be unconscious. I don't want to frighten you unnecessarily, but I must inform you that our fear when it comes to comas is that there's a chance he may not actually ever regain consciousness."

May's grip on Gwen's hand tightened. "Can we see him?"

"Of course," Dr Hutchens stood aside, opening the door for them to walk through.

The minute the women crossed the threshold, the nurse tending to Peter startled and looked up, wide-eyed.

"Everything ok, Stuart?" Dr Hutchens asked, noticing the man's alarm.

Stuart spoke like a man unaccustomed to medical miracles. "The patients vitals just improved dramatically as you walked into the room. Gave me a bit of a turn!"

Gwen and May approached slowly, uncertain as to what they were allowed to do.

"Can I touch him?" May asked cautiously, her eyes seeking the approval of the doctor.

"Go ahead."

May reached out and stroked the hair back from Peter's forehead. Gwen stood back a little, taking in the wires and electrodes on Peter's temples and bare chest. Even in all of her love and concern, Gwen was curious as to whether or not Peter's mutation had any effect on what the doctors were reading on their instruments. It didn't seem to. She walked around to the opposite side of Peter's bed and sat down. The tears sprang to her eyes as she reached over and gently brushed his still fingers with her own.

"There, look!" Stuart exclaimed, pointing again to the monitor above Peter's bed. "Another leap in brain activity." He smiled kindly at Gwen. "Looks like someone's been missing you."

Gwen managed a small watery smile in return and then focused herself entirely on Peter, taking his hand, her grip firm.

_Peter? I'm here. Can you hear me? Can you feel me?_

She heard Stuart as if the sound of his voice was being faintly carried down a long corridor. He was chuckling to himself, half-incredulous. "His brain activity has improved more in the moments since you ladies walked in that it has in the whole time we've had him here."

_You're in the hospital. I wonder if you even know where you are. I'm here. You're Aunt May's here. Can you speak to me? Even just in here in the quiet?_

Dr Hutchen's beeper sounded and Gwen vaguely heard her making her excuses.

_Peter?_

A moment later, Stuart was also called away and he pulled the curtain closed around the bed as he went leaving May and Gwen alone, hovering helplessly over Peter's body.

Gwen's tears flowed freely. She dropped her head onto Peter's hand and kissed it fiercely.

_Peter? Can you speak to me? Please?_

Nothing.

The instruments around them beeped and clicked as usual. Peter lay still and Gwen and May looked at one another.

"Gwen?" May began, tentatively. "You and I have both lost enough already." Steel came into her voice. "So we are _not_ going to lose Peter."

Gwen nodded through her tears.

"In that spirit, can I ask a favour?"

Gwen nodded again, unable to give her much more.

"Peter will need one of us here when he wakes up. I have to work tomorrow night, so here's what I propose. I'll stay here with Peter tonight and you go home and get some rest. If you can get back here at about eleven in the morning, I'll go home and get some sleep before work and maybe you wouldn't mind staying with him until I can get back here after work at about nine?"

Gwen had no desire to leave Peter, but she knew Mrs Parker was genuinely asking for her help. There was no way she could explain the way that sleep suddenly wasn't as necessary for her as it used to be. She had no choice but to agree.

"Why don't you stay and say goodnight to him while I find myself a coffee?" May offered, noticing her reluctance to go.

Gwen smiled sadly at Aunt May as she turned to close the curtain behind her. "Thanks, Mrs Parker."

The flimsy curtain provided Gwen with all the privacy she was going to be granted. Unperturbed she leapt to her feet and with the tears still streaming down her cheeks, planted a flurry of kisses all over Peter's face.

_I don't know if you can hear me, but I guess I don't need to be with you to be able to talk to you. I'll keep trying to talk to you even after I leave._

She ran her hand through his thick hair, placing a line of soft kisses across his hairline.

_I just wish you could talk to me! Peter, I need your help, I need your advice. _

"Damn it, Peter! I need you! Wake up!" She caught herself almost shouting out loud.

She fell back into her chair and dropped her head into her hands. Shouting was clearly not going to help. She took a deep breath and reached again for Peter's hand, focusing her gaze on his closed eyelids. Well, there was one thing she had wanted to say to Peter for a long time, and if it turned out he never actually heard it, probably so much the better.

_Let me tell you something quickly, Peter, before your Aunt May gets back with her coffee. I don't even know if you can hear me, so there'll never be a better time for me to get this off my chest._

_I know you've got things you need to tell me about this but I want to tell you what_ I_ know about the night my dad died._

_You probably didn't know that I was in a police car on the ground that night. You probably didn't know that I saw the tower fall, that I saw you. You were just a red and blue blur from that far away. I saw you jump as the tower fell and my heart felt like it was caught in my throat. I thought maybe you'd fall all the way down to me. I've seen you fall too many times now, Peter._

_And here's the guilt that I'll always have with me about that night. The police, my dad's friends, his colleagues, came out of the tower together. They looked so shaken, almost grey. And all I was looking for as they walked towards me, all I wanted to know, to make sure of, was that they hadn't arrested you. I didn't notice, or if I noticed, I didn't pay any attention to the fact that my dad wasn't with them. They came to find me, you know, to sit me down, to tell me what had happened and all I wanted to hear, all I was scanning for in all of their words, was news about you. It took me a long time, far too long, to understand what they were saying. To understand that while I was searching for information about the man I loved, about you, Peter, they were trying to tell me about the man that I loved and that had loved me all my life, from the moment he knew of my conception. They were trying to tell me that my father had died._

_And even right in that moment, as I finally heard what they were saying, all I wanted to know was whether or not you were dead too. I know that in some weird way this is his fault, Peter, but I spent more of my own father's funeral looking for you, wondering if you were ok, wondering where you were than I spent thinking about him. Because he was dead, there was no doubt about it. And you were alive. Or at least that's what I hoped._

_And, Peter? Right now, I'm sitting here looking at you and I don't know if you're going to wake up. I don't know where you are, I don't know if you're ok. I'm still here, still holding on to the hope that you're alive. _

_._

* * *

_._

_._

_Darling readers, I have lost all ability to discern whether or not this chapter is any good. If you made it all the way here and feel like you might like, one day, to perhaps read a bit more of this story, PLEASE let me know. _

_If it's any good, this one's for you, CrazyCoffeeKat, C-Jam and Dragonskyt. Sorry for not doing all that much to resolve the suspense!_


	18. Chapter 18

After Aunt May returned with her watery vending machine coffee, Gwen gathered her belongings, kissed Peter gently on the forehead, wordlessly hugged Aunt May and made her way out of the hospital. She scuffed her way down the slushy sidewalk utterly eschewing her previous New York night-time routine, drummed into her by her father, in which she put a lot of effort into not looking like a potential victim.

Any other occasion, walking out into New York City in the pitch dark hours of the very early morning, Gwen would have made certain to maintain a confident stride, an alert glance and tight grip of her bag. This particular Sunday at 2am saw her brow-beaten, discouraged and utterly oblivious to the way she was presenting herself to onlookers. Unsurprisingly, then, in a deserted alley short-cut that she didn't think not to take, she found herself set upon by two distinctly unsavoury young men of about her own age.

"Hey, baby!" one of them called out as she shuffled past, "You looking for a party?"

"Yeah," echoed the other one stupidly, grabbing at his crotch, "We've got a party for you right here."

Gwen stopped in her tracks and turned her full attention to the two pimply teens. That in itself was enough to startle them into silence.

"Are you two all talk?" she asked, "Or did you have some kind of action planned to go along with the harassment?"

The boys looked at one another, clearly unnerved by her response.

Gwen gave them a few moments to get off their arses but the moment never presented itself so she took a deep breath, sighed loudly, "Pathetic," and stalked off. She remembered Peter's reaction the night her dad had accused Spiderman of assaulting people. She thought she probably shouldn't beat the crap out them just because they were creeps and she was having a bad night.

* * *

Her mom was waiting for her when she got home and she immediately took Gwen into her arms, just letting her sob.

"Oh, my darling," she said softly, gently stroking her daughter's hair. "Any sign of improvement?"

Gwen thought of what Stuart, the nurse, had said to her to make her feel better and wished that it were true. She shook her head.

"Mrs Parker's with him tonight," she managed eventually. "I have to go back and be with him in the morning when she goes to work. We need one of us to be there when he wakes up."

"Of course," her mom replied soothingly. "It must be such a comfort to May to know that Peter has you too."

Gwen sat up and shrugged. "I should probably try to get some sleep, Mom."

"Is there anything I can do for you?" her mom asked. "Want a cup of tea?"

Gwen smiled weakly. "Maybe in the morning. I might just get in the shower for now."

"Ok, night darling."

"Night, Mom."

Gwen closed her bedroom door quietly behind her so as not to wake her brothers, dumped the contents of her backpack onto the floor and fished out her phone.

She quickly flicked open the camera app. At last she could watch the footage she'd taken earlier and see if the driver was anyone she recognised.

The footage, though a little grainy in the dark, was perfectly good for collecting information about the vehicle and for identifying the whereabouts of the incident. However, when Gwen got to the section of the video where she had lowered the phone to film through the driver's side window, her jaw dropped.

She immediately opened her laptop, connected the phone and copied the video over to her hard drive. She stripped the metadata from the video and, once certain the file couldn't be traced back to her phone, burned it onto a DVD. She grabbed a plastic case, housed the DVD within it and, stopped for a moment in the hallway to stand still, focus on the soundscape and check that everyone in her house was breathing with the tell-tale rhythm of deep sleep. Once certain, she sprinted up to the rooftop. There she shed her clothes down to her red suit, slid on her mask and jumped up onto the wall at the point furthest from her bedroom window.

Within the space of a few minutes, she was tapping on the still-lit office window of Captain Gleitzman, an old friend of her father's and the man who inherited his job, the DVD clutched tightly in her hand.

"Spiderman," Captain Gleitzman hailed him wearily. "What have you got for me?"

Gwen held out the DVD from the shadowy window ledge.

"I'm guessing you won't stay for a drink?"

She shook her head.

"Thanks for this, I'll take a look straight away."

Gwen reproduced her odd salute from earlier in the evening and sprang away from the window. It certainly seemed that, while she stayed in the shadows, no one was spotting the difference between her and Spiderman. If she could stay as quiet as possible, maybe she wouldn't have to worry about introducing everyone to Spidergirl for some time.

Sailing back through the city on the way to her building, she heard a distinctive scream from the empty streets below. Gwen altered her momentum and came to a halt, perched next to an awful postmodern reconstruction gargoyle on the side of an apartment block. She scanned the maze beneath her and spotted a woman trying to escape from two men who followed in hot pursuit. She swung out a web high above their heads and launched herself, Tarzan-style, over the head of the fleeing woman and then parted her legs as she roared towards her targets such that she managed to connect a boot with the jugular of each assailant.

They both lay choking on the frosty ground and she shot a web around the pair of them, securing them back to back and leaving them scrambling inelegantly in the gutter.

The woman had stopped in her tracks at the sound of their cries and, spotting the unmistakeable suit, she ran back.

"You stopped them!" she cried breathlessly. "Thank you! Thank you so much!"

Gwen waved acknowledgement, peering down at her two charges. Then she twigged. These were the two idiots who had called after her earlier that evening. Judging by the smell of them, they'd imbibed a fair bit in between encounters which went some way to explaining how their stupid talk had morphed into malevolent action.

"Care to make a statement to the police? Let's put these lowlifes away, hey?"

The heads of both boys snapped up to look at her. "Spiderman's a girl!" one of them cried. "And she's hot!"

"Oooh yeah," said the other. "How did I not notice how nicely that spandex fits across that chest of yours?"

"Wow, you think you'd notice the prone-and-boundness of yourselves and shut up, huh?" Gwen shrugged and smacked the two boys' heads together, neatly knocking them both out.

"Spiderman?" asked the victim. "Are you, umm, are you a woman?"

Gwen nodded tentatively, a last-minute rethink, tossing up again between Spiderwoman and Spidergirl.

The girl stood there in awe, shaking her head. "How typical is that?"

"Typical?" Gwen repeated, somewhat surprised

"That everyone assumes you must be Spider_man_, just because you're awesome and you're kicking everyone's butts!"

Gwen was speechless for a moment.

"Why should we have assumed all this time that you're a guy just because you're strong and fast?" The girl seemed to be entering into a spirited conversation with herself. "_Of course_, you're a woman! I can't believe I didn't see it before!"

After her moment of shock passed, Gwen thought she'd just go along with it. But she felt she should change the subject before she was forced to agree. "Shall we go to the cops? Get these two locked up?"

The girl hesitated, but then, after contemplating the Spider_person_ for a moment, the scruff of each of her attackers grasped in a red-gloved hand, she agreed.

Gwen dragged the two creeps behind her as they entered the police station.

"Spiderman," the on-duty officer called in greeting. "Who have we got here?"

Gwen motioned for the girl to step forward and tell her story.

"Your name?" the officer enquired, pulling out paper and pen from under the counter.

"Jessica Norton," the girl replied, and went on to supply her personal details for the statement.

"Well," the girl began as the officer indicated for her to continue, "I was walking home from work after my shift finished at two-thirty this morning and these two started calling names and saying awful, scary things. I walked away as quickly as I could but one of them walked up to me and grabbed my hand, pulling me back into the alley." She shuddered, "They started describing what they wanted to do to me and kept cutting me off as I tried to get away. Eventually, I broke away and I ran. Because they were so drunk they could barely keep up but they weren't quitting." She looked at Gwen for reassurance. Gwen nodded. "I screamed and then Spider- er, Spiderman, here came and grabbed them. So, yeah, I'm here to make a statement so these two can be arrested."

"And Spiderman you can attest to everything the victim has described?"

Gwen gave a vigorous nod.

"Two-thirty on a Sunday morning is late to finish a shift," the officer commented. "You don't think that might have played some part in your getting attacked?"

Gwen shook her head, struggling to understand what she was hearing. "Excuse me?" she said in her deepest, most Peter-like voice. "Are you in the habit of asking people whose houses have been broken into whether they think going away on holidays might have been a bad call?"

"Sorry?" asked the officer.

"I just don't think this is relevant to the issue at hand. Jessica was set upon, harassed and attacked by these two men! They are the perpetrators and she is their innocent victim."

The officer held his hands up defensively. "Ok, ok. I was just making a point."

Gwen shrugged. "Got everything you need from me?"

"Thanks, Spiderman. Yup, got all we need."

Gwen attempted to perfect her over-the-shoulder salute as she walked out.

"Umm, Spiderman!" Jessica called out, running to the door with her. "Thank you so much. And thanks for telling off that policeman just then too." She clasped her hands in front of her chest and whispered conspiratorially. "You know? It means _so_ much to me that there's a woman under that suit."

Gwen rolled her eyes behind her mask but reached out and briefly grasped the girl's arm. "You gonna be ok?"

"Yeah," the girl nodded, and from the fire in her eyes, Gwen believed her.

_._

* * *

_._

_._

_NeoTyson, kindleflame5, and Life sucks- move on, thanks for popping up for the first time to reassure me that you'll keep reading if I keep writing!_

_kindleflame5, I'm a bit concerned for you, though. You seem to be under the impression that I'm actually informed as to orthodox spidey mythology. Be warned, I am not! I'm just a loser out here on my own, trying to keep my own fantasy version of Andrew Garfield's Peter and Emma Stone's Gwen alive. I hope it won't make you too cranky!  
_

___Life sucks- move on - thanks so much for giving me the benefit of the doubt on the Gwen/Spidergirl plot. Not sure what you'll be making of it all after this chapter but I hope you'll approve!_

_As ever, so much love to CrazyCoffeeKat (and your poor, freaked-out pup), Curly Wurly Me and countrygirl1989, thanks for returning to review. You guys are among my faithful few! The fact that you all seem to be getting a bit of a thrill out of this story is the awesomest thing ever. _

_Dragonskyt, sorry about the two sad chapters in a row. Are you giving up on me now that there's three with no resolution? I might be presuming on your patience, I hope you can forgive me! CrazyCoffeeKat knows what I'm up to - I'm trying to give Gwen a bit of a moment to shine and establish herself as a legend in her own right._

___How is it possible that it is suddenly the 11th of December, 2012? I was rewatching a bit of Buffy last night (I know, it's practically VINTAGE these days) and feeling nostalgic for 2000 which so doesn't seem like that long ago to me. That's the sucky thing about being a grown-up. Time goes by so freaking fast! _


	19. Chapter 19

By 5am, after tossing and turning for a few hours, Gwen had given up on sleep, left a note for her mom on the kitchen bench and headed back to the hospital. Her sense of him, though faint, was still present enough for her to locate Peter in the quieter ward that they'd moved him to on the ninth floor. Aunt May had fallen asleep in her chair, her hand grasping Peter's. He lay perfectly still. Apart from the wires and electrodes he looked like he was in a deep, peaceful sleep. She gently woke Aunt May and faced no real opposition as she escorted the tired and emotionally-drained woman through the semi-dawn to a taxi, encouraging her to get some rest and promising to watch over Peter until she was able to return.

Back by Peter's side, she drew the curtains carefully around the bed, slipped her coat off her shoulders, kicked off her boots and listened for a moment. Certain that no one was near or approaching, she gently lifted the covers from Peter's left side and climbed into the bed next to him. She nestled herself under his arm and rested her head against the warmth of his bare skin, hearing the comforting rhythm of his heart beating. She pressed her right leg down the length of his and bent her left knee, resting her thigh across Peter's. With her left hand, she gently negotiated a course through the wires and electrodes dotted across Peter's firm chest, and spanned her hand as far as she could across the raised ridgeline of his collar bone and right shoulder. Gwen finally felt that she could relax. She closed her eyes and her breathing slowed, settling into synch with his.

A flickering in the corner of the room woke Gwen an hour later and her eyes were drawn to the TV screen above Peter's bed. She sleepily snuggled herself against his warm body and half-tuned in. Less than a second went by before she was fully focused.

In true CNN style the screen simultaneously showed stock footage of the bird-creatures attacks from the previous night, an inset frame of the footage she herself had captured on her phone and in big text scrolling across the bottom of the screen, "Spiderman provides key evidence. Billionaire Anthony Abbott assisting police in relation to shocking attacks on homeless."

The text that scrolled on from there caused Gwen to thunk her head back onto Peter's shoulder. "Internet speculation: Spiderman a Spiderwoman?" Oh man, what would Peter think of that when he woke up?

Gwen sensed more than heard someone approaching Peter's bed and before a hand even reached out for the curtain, Peter's bedclothes were returned to their pristine state and she was back in coat and boots, slumped in the arm chair feigning sleep. As she convincingly yawned and rubbed her eyes, she recognised the nurse from the previous evening. Stuart, still on-duty and obviously a bit the worse for wear, was completing his early morning rounds before knocking off and heading home to bed.

She heard him gasp and sat bolt upright in her chair. "What is it?"

Stuart's expression implied that he feared for his own sanity. He looked over at her somewhat hesitantly. "Umm, sorry to ask, it's been a bit of a long shift, but did your boyfriend come in with a fairly serious head injury last night?"

Gwen nodded. "I think I overheard the doctor say he ended up with thirty or forty stitches."

"Right," said Stuart, the look of confusion on his face only settling further in. "Can you, um, can you have a look at this for a minute?"

Gwen hopped out of her chair and came around to where Stuart was standing, holding Peter's head up in order to change the dressing on his wound.

Nothing. The back of his head could not have looked more garden-variety, except, Gwen couldn't help but notice, for the perfect way his hairline met the nape of his neck – so sexy. She shook her head and focused on the task at hand.

Stuart was stunned. "There isn't even any blood on the dressing! It's as if last night the doctors put an elaborate dressing on an uninjured person. No sign of the stitches or anything!" He stood there shaking his head, "Unless I'm losing my mind…"

Gwen was uncertain how to proceed. "I guess he's still unconscious though, so that's bad?"

"Mmm," responded Stuart distractedly. "Maybe I won't disturb the doctors just yet?" He pottered on with unnecessarily replacing the unnecessary bandage.

"How is he other than that?" asked Gwen, hoping no more suspicion about Peter would be aroused.

Stuart cast a glance up to the monitor. And then a double-take. "Wo."

"Is that a good "Wo" or a bad "Wo"?"

"Umm, a good "Wo", I guess. His brain activity and vitals are amazing compared to last night!"

_Peter? Can you hear me?_

"When do you think he'll wake up?" she asked, getting no response from Peter.

"I wouldn't want to guess, it's impossible to pick these things, but let's just say I wouldn't be shocked if he woke up today."

He noticed the look of hope that sprung into her eyes and immediately back-pedalled. "Hang on, don't get all excited. I didn't say he _will _wake up today." His voice softened. "Remember, we can't be one hundred percent sure that he ever _will_ wake up."

Gwen nodded, her eyes focusing on Peter's still fingers intertwined in hers.

"So, Sunday morning. Are you going to be relieved by someone so you can get some rest?"

"I already tag-teamed with Peter's aunt this morning. I just couldn't sleep worrying about him."

Stuart smiled sympathetically. "Ten bucks says his aunt will be back well before you expect her. There's no way she'll be getting any sleep. The two of you might as well accept that until he's discharged, you'll be sleeping far better in an uncomfortable armchair next to him here than you will at home."

Gwen nodded. "I think you're probably right." Not that she was going to be relaying that particular insight to Aunt May.

She spent the day alternately dozing, eating sugary crap from the vending machine and flicking channels, tuning in for more on the stories she'd awoken to that morning. There didn't seem to be any interesting developments. Time in hospital seemed to go slower than it did in the outside world, something about the airlessness and the quiet. Obviously the consciousness level of the patient she was visiting wasn't helping either.

As Stuart so aptly predicted, May Parker bustled back in much sooner than expected. It seemed she'd rearranged work shifts in order to be able to sit with her nephew. "Oh, Gwen, how are you?"

Gwen got to her feet and embraced her. "The same. Tired and scared and sad."

"Oh, me too," May smiled sadly as they broke apart, fishing in her handbag for a hanky with which to dab at her eyes. "How's Peter?"

"He hasn't woken up at all, but his wound is much better," she replied, bending down to gather the chocolate bar wrappers and chip packets from under her chair.

"Well, that's something, I suppose, isn't it?" May sighed, settling into the chair Gwen just vacated and absent-mindedly taking Peter's hand. "What are you going to do now, sweetheart?"

Gwen shrugged her backpack onto one shoulder. "Guess I'll go home and try to get some of my homework done. When would you like me to come back, Mrs Parker?"

May looked apologetic. "Well, I was thinking about that. I'm going to stay as late as I can but I have to work tomorrow afternoon. If I'm going to be any good to anyone there I'll need to go home to try to get some sleep tonight. I'll come back in the morning and spend some time with him during the day." She saw Gwen go to interrupt and held up her hand in protest. "I can't ask you to come out so late tonight after getting here so early this morning. Besides, I'm sure Helen would never agree to you being here overnight alone. He might just have to be on his own in the dead of night tonight. Will you be able to come by after school tomorrow?"

"Of course," Gwen nodded, secretly rejoicing to hear that Peter would be alone over night. She at least knew that she had some quality rest ahead. "I'll see you tomorrow afternoon. But you'll call me, won't you, if there's any change?"

May nodded reassuringly and got to her feet to embrace Gwen once more before she left. "Take care walking home, won't you sweetheart? You look exhausted."

"I will," Gwen called over her shoulder as she made her way out of the ward. "You take care too, Mrs Parker."

Once out on the street in the pale sunlight and the crisp November air, Gwen began to feel more alive. Peter still wasn't awake but he was definitely on the improve, her footage of Anthony Abbott driving that van had obviously swung the police into action and would hopefully stop those creatures _and_ she had single-handedly achieved a citizen's arrest and boosted the outlook of a fellow sister. Two less carrion birds and two less low-lifes on the street – a good night by anyone's standards!

_If only I could celebrate with you, Peter._

She sauntered home, helped Howard make lunch for the family and afterwards piled onto the couch with her brothers for the next instalment of Philip's 80's comedy retrospective movie viewing bucket list – _Spaceballs_. The sheer lunacy of the film had the four of them in tears of laughter from start to finish, though Gwen was conscious that a few of the jokes she cackled at sailed way over Simon's head.

The afternoon felt like an oddly placed segment of blessed normalcy in an otherwise bizarre existence. After dinner, she kissed her mom, play-punched her brothers in the guts and blithely lied about where she was off to. With Peter in the hospital she kind of had a get-out-of-jail-free card on late nights and early mornings and the afternoon session of family focused attention only aided her in winning some time out of the house. But she wasn't heading to the hospital. She was heading to Oscorp to stand-in for Peter, to assure New York of Spiderman's continuity of care.

Zooming in from the east she noticed a bit of an aura around Oscorp Tower. What she hadn't quite anticipated was how keenly the press might have taken up the internet rumours that questioned the gender of the Spiderbeing. Gwen was incredulous. Compared to the amount of attention paid to actual battles with actual non-human flesh-eating bird creatures, this was a circus. Spiderman's usual evening location was buzzing with circling helicopters and the surrounding streets were packed with camera-wielding news crews and station branded vehicles. She hesitated a moment. Perhaps New York wouldn't be assured of Spiderman's continuity of care just this evening.

Instead, Gwen decided to swing around the outskirts of the city, as far as she could get from the media feeding frenzy she'd unwittingly created. That girl she'd saved must have had one heck of a blog following.

The unmistakeable sound of gunfire rang out from an alley somewhere below. The city's criminal element was cashing in on the hubbub around Oscorp Tower and throwing a free for all by being criminal elsewhere. Gwen paused on the side of a building to observe what went on below.

The gunman hid behind a dumpster with two others, crouched in the shadows. Gwen could see the steam rising from the gun in his hand. Down the length of the alley, another bunch of armed men flattened themselves on the ground or against the dirty walls of the overhanging buildings. That end of the alley didn't seem to provide them with much in the way of cover and they had nowhere to hide.

Gwen clambered into a central vantage point between the two warring sides. She closed her eyes, breathed deeply and centred herself. Then, palms facing outward, with a wrist extended tai chi-like towards each group, she fired webs with such precision that, within an instant, she was crouched atop a pile of weapons looking like Buddha on lotus. A few more webs later and Gwen found herself presiding over two neatly trussed bunches of gangsters, shouting insults at one another like a couple of foul-mouthed sheaves of wheat.

After securing her captives tightly to the wall and making sure none of them had access to their phones, she hoisted the weapons up into a bundle and shot off in search of a squad car. Thankfully the cop she found had obviously not had time to watch the news that day. He called it in and in less than half an hour, the men were locked up, their deadly weapons confiscated and Gwen as Spiderman, was silently shaking hands with Commissioner Gleitzman for her role in resolving yet another long-running criminal syndicate. These guys, she learnt, had been implicated in weapons imports, stand-over and money laundering to name just a few of their choice pursuits.

Once the official business was out of the way, Gleitzman took Gwen aside. "Just want to let you know, Spiderman, man or woman under there, it makes absolutely no difference to me, or to the City of New York. You play a crucial role in this society. In the last 24 hours alone your contribution has been invaluable."

Gwen hung her head bashfully, uncertain how to respond to the commissioner's praise.

"No doubt we'll be inviting you to attend another host of ceremonies in the next week or so, but don't let that concern you. You just keep doing what you do for us. No one else can."

Gwen nodded sagely, extended her hand once more to Gleitzman, and then took a running leap up into the bright lights of Midtown. There was really only one place she wanted to be and she wanted to get there as quickly as she could.

.

* * *

_._

_._

_I guess I could be accused of dragging this out, huh? Hopefully though, these chapters will be coming thick and fast now that I'm on holidays - I'm determined not to be writing fanfic come Christmas! I want to be free to read and make stuff and have a teensy bit of Peter/Gwen free headspace in which to be a normal human being for a while! Anyway, at least you got a smidge of P/G cuddles at the beginning there. Keep sharing your thoughts with me people! The more lovely little reviews waiting for me, the quicker I fly into writing the next instalment!_

_NeoTyson, thanks for popping back again! Your review came in so fast – a nice little bit of encouragement!_

_CrazyCoffeeKat - old reliable, old pal, thanks for the continuing kindness! If anyone reading this wants to read some super fun Chuck fics, go check out CrazyCoffeeKat's stuff – and obviously, you have to leave a review ;) So glad you're continuing to enjoy this flight of fancy! Gwen does have kind of a cool scratchy voice, I didn't think it would be that impossible that she could pull off a Peter impersonation!_

_Razgriz, thanks so much for joining in and, man, am I with you on the MJ thing. That girl, to my mind, is a total waste of space. And some of the fics that I am loving have got her hanging around the edges threatening an imminent love-triangle development any minute. Be assured, MJ will not be finding her way into this little story!_

_Dragonskyt, sorry to hear that your existence is a bit dramatic at the moment. Hope that this at least allows you a little bit of escapism? Glad you're liking the Spiderbeing controversy. Fun to write, that's for sure!_

_countrygirl1989, you totally picked a huge part of my motivation for this whole story. Ages ago I went to see the old Spidey with TM and KD and found the whole thing a bit pathetic. How in this day and age can we possibly have space for a useless melodramatic heroine who flops around uselessly and just has to get herself rescued all the time? MY Peter has got no time for girls like that. My Peter is into girls with brains and substance! Well, one specific girl with brains and substance. (Hopefully my Flash is slowly learning that lesson too...) I LOVED that Gwen defiantly flew into action to save others in The Amazing Spider-Man, even without any super powers of her own. She comes after Connors with that trophy at the school, she's the one who really saves the day with that antidote and she refuses to sit back and take orders from Peter when she knows that she can help others, even if it means that she herself is in danger. She's strong and she's brave and I SO wanted to take that as far as I could! So glad you're approving!_

_And paronomastic? Thanks dude. Glad you're liking!_

_Flam3nco - I hope you're still logged on right now. Your review just popped into my inbox and I thought to myself, that's it. It's time for Ch 19. Thanks for letting me know that you're in suspense!_

_Anyone pick my little homage to Josie and Alan M? Man, I'm so lame. I LOVE that movie. Ok, it gets sadder. I just checked to see if anyone's writing Josie and the Pussycats fanfiction – and no one is. I'm into a movie that not even the My Little Pony fans want to write fanfic for. Depressing. No offence if you're writing or reading My Little Pony fanfic. I have to admit, I was totally surprised that it existed. But NOTHING should surprise me in this frightening rabbit hole that is fanfiction!_

_Can I just say, I just saved ch 21 up here ready for posting after a bit of tweaking to it and ch20. That means I'm two whole chapters ahead of myself! Keep up the nice reviewing love people, I can't wait to see what you think of this stuff!_


	20. Chapter 20

She swung herself gracefully from rooftop to rooftop heading in the direction of the hospital and keeping one eye out for helicopters and news crews. Before she even got within cooee of the building where Peter lay sleeping, she sensed and felt as well as heard a terrifying crunch. A collective scream emanated from the streets below and Gwen immediately tensed her body and angled herself arrow-like down towards the source of the noise. Immediately, she saw the crush of people streaming hysterically up the staircase out of the 33rd Street subway station.

Without hesitation she clambered over the railing that looked down from street-level into the stairwell below and scampered upside-down along the ceiling of the subway tunnel over the heads of the screeching crowds massing in the opposite direction.

Gwen scrambled along the tiled ceiling barely attracting the attention of the terrified herds beneath her. Soon enough she discovered the source of the crunch she'd heard and the reason people were fleeing the tunnel. Somehow a train had flown spectacularly off the tracks and, in the motion of derailment, crashed clean through one of the iconic tiled pillars that offered structural support to the cavern beneath the city street. Enormous cracks had shot across the entire ceiling of the station and a deeply worrying groaning sound continually echoed throughout the space.

Gwen had no time to think. She bolted down the length of the train and forced open every sliding door, starting from the carriage in the pitch darkness furthest away from the platform. After lifting out the injured or frail and assisting people escape where she could, she simply fired web after web at every column, every pillar and all across the ceiling attempting to weave a safety net with which to support the layers of steel and concrete that lay stacked between the screaming civilians fleeing the train and the six lanes of traffic above. She filled the cracks as best she could, and, in the midst of stretching a second layer of cables to undergird the original net she'd woven, was horrified to find her right wristband no longer firing cables. She was out! She knew she had to get herself and anyone remaining out before her left wristband packed it in too.

She spun herself in a spectacular somersault and landed daintily, crouched above the rubble of tiles and concrete on the platform. She scanned her surroundings, and seeing nothing, silently went into herself for a moment to see what she could sense. Her head snapped upright. Someone was trapped in the train. She bolted back through the unstable carriages, searching frantically for the source of the fear that she sensed. Finally, in the first carriage, the carriage that had borne the impact of the derailment, she located a young woman, silently weeping and in shock, her bloody leg pinned under the crumpled seat on which she'd been sitting.

"We've got to get you out of here," Gwen urged, effortlessly lifting the twisted metal off the young woman. A terrifying groan resounded around the tiled echo chamber of the subway station and Gwen hoisted the girl into her arms, running with all she had for the stairway.

The crowds were being pushed off the road and onto sturdier ground by police and emergency crews who were working as fast as they could to hold back traffic and cordon off the area.

Every news outlet that had been hovering around Oscorp had bolted the few blocks to the scene. The magic journalistic moment when Spiderman, clasping an injured young woman to his chest, emerged into the bright spotlights cast by the choppers above, was captured by every camera-operator worth her salt. The question of the gender of the hero was momentarily forgotten as every eye watched the last civilian being lifted to safety and handed over into the care of the waiting paramedics.

Spiderman was immediately ushered into urgent conversation with emergency personnel on-hand to deal with the structural damage. The crowd watched with baited breath as Spiderman gesticulated above his head, obviously attempting to describe the extent of the damage and the temporary measures he'd taken. After nods and handshakes were exchanged, Spiderman wowed the assembled crowd by raising his left arm high and straight above his head, shooting a cable directly up into the night sky, hooking a crane above and swinging himself right out of sight.

As Gwen scrambled one-armed for the alley where she'd left her bag she heard the thunderous applause of the crowds she'd come to the aid of. Behind the mask, she nearly wept with relief.

* * *

At last she reached the destination she had been aiming for all evening. Back in her civilian clothes, Gwen shed her unnecessary layers and slid between the sheets next to Peter though she knew it would be some time before her mind or body would be able to relax.

_Peter? _

Nothing.

_I don't know if you can hear me but I have no one else to tell._

She thought she might cry, but no tears came.

_Being a hero doesn't feel as monumental as I thought it would, Peter. People need help, I can help them, I just pitch in._

She nestled herself more comfortable against Peter's still form.

_I get it now. It is way more frightening to be the daughter of a hero, the girlfriend of a hero, the aunt of a hero than to be a hero yourself._

She yawned and stretched luxuriously next to him.

_I wish I could tell you all about the night I've had. No, actually, you know what? I wish you could have been with me so that I wouldn't have to tell you anything you didn't already know._

* * *

Gwen woke groggily to the sound of the TV news from above the bed. She wondered vaguely whether the thing operated on some kind of timer.

_After extensive searches of Abbott's multiple properties, police are uncovering blueprints and hidden laboratories and gradually piecing together the chilling details of the billionaire's plans to exterminate those in poverty in New York City. Already in custody, Abbott now faces extensive criminal court proceedings. More details as they come to hand._

_Thanks to Spiderman, last night, another crime syndicate was disarmed and arrested. Commissioner Gleitzman sang the hero's praises for his quick thinking and willingness to act on behalf of the citizens of our city._

_After the crucial role Spiderman played in saving thousands of civilians last night's Midtown subway disaster, New York residents continue to come to terms with the reality that the hero popularly thought to be male may actually be a woman._

Gwen was shocked into lucidity by the vibration under her cheek. "I'm kind of hoping you've got a good explanation for that one."

She sat bolt upright. "Peter? Oh my gosh! You're awake!"

"Yep, I'm awake, and, apparently, I'm a girl." Peter tried to make himself sound indignant. "They're calling me 'slight' and 'slim-hipped'! Not very masculine, is it?"

It was so good to be able to look into the warm chocolatey brown of his eyes, to feel his arms, not limp, but holding her firmly, to lean down and gently place a kiss on his soft, responsive lips.

"I can explain," she giggled, coming up for air.

"Maybe in a minute or two, huh?" And he wound his strong arms around her, pressing her tightly against his bare chest and capturing her lips again with his.

Despite double the spider-sense in the room, neither of them noticed Stuart, freshly-pressed at the beginning of a new shift, yanking open the curtain around Peter's bed.

He coughed without subtlety or success.

"Err, good morning?" he tried again.

Finally the pair entwined in one another on the bed broke apart and looked up to acknowledge him.

"Stuart!" Gwen crowed. "Peter's awake!"

"Mmm, so it would seem," he chuckled. "How are you feeling?"

Peter grinned at Gwen. "Pretty much awesome."

Stuart fixed him with a half-stern, half-amused look. "Can you please restrict yourself to a discussion of your physical state? I can see that your metaphysical state may well be 'pretty much awesome' but after waking from a coma, I'm really wondering about your injuries, specifically those you sustained to your head."

Peter laughed and Gwen, chastised, swung her legs out from under the sheets and instead perched herself next to Peter on the edge of the bed, smoothing the wrinkles out of her skirt. Not ready to not be touching her, Peter deftly snaked an arm around her waist as he contemplated Stuart's question.

"Really, I feel fine. I mean, I feel better than fine. I feel like I've just woken up from the best night's sleep I've ever had."

"Is that how coma patients usually feel?" Gwen began to ask before Peter cut her off.

"Coma? I've been in a coma?" Peter asked incredulously. "What day is it?"

"It's Monday," Gwen replied, smiling gently. "B Track."

"When were we…"

Gwen's eyes briefly flared wide in warning, "We were mugged late on Saturday night, remember? In that alley near Oscorp after you picked me up from work?"

"Mugged," Peter nodded. "Right, yeah, I think I remember." He reached over his shoulder to feel the bandage on the back of his head. "Is this bad?"

Stuart laughed, approaching Peter to check his wound. "Nope, not bad at all. Though I could have sworn it _was_ when Spiderman brought you in."

Peter's eyes narrowed. "When _Spiderman_ brought me in?"

"Yeah, now you can tell everyone that you've met Spiderman! Not that you were conscious at the time. What a bummer! You could have got his autograph. And that was just at the beginning of his weekend of being more incredible than any of us could have imagined," Stuart chuckled, gently lifting the edges of the dressing.

"More incredible?" Peter queried, his eyes on Gwen who sat looking at her lap, a small smile playing on her lips.

"If you'd spent more time paying attention to the news and less time making out, you would have seen it all – the guy, or maybe the girl, I guess, is amazing!"

Peter looked at Gwen pointedly. "The Amazing Spidergirl, huh?"

"Well, or Spiderperson," Stuart corrected. "He, she, whatever, busted that creepy Abbott guy for making those freaky bird things and I for one am relieved about that – treated a few survivors and they were not in a pretty state at all." He continued bustling around at the back of Peter's head, removing the bandages. "Then he intervenes in some underworld gang fight and gets all of them thrown behind bars, then he saves, like, thousands of people when a subway train derailed. I don't think I've ever seen the news that full of Spiderman stories!"

"Really?" Peter asked coolly.

"And, of course he totally saved my favourite blogger, Jess Norton, from being assaulted. Well, I should say "she" – Jess is the one who told us all that she's a woman. She's written this great piece on the gender assumptions we make, and based it on her discovery of Spiderman really being a woman - it's a fantastic read. Anyway, I related. You know, the plight of a male nurse and all that…"

"I'll look it up," Peter sighed. "Sounds edifying." Gwen had to bite her lip to keep herself from laughing.

"Alright, well, that's you done for now," Stuart muttered, tidying up his supplies. "I've removed that dressing entirely because there's nothing underneath it anyway." He packed up the last of his stuff and turned to face Peter and Gwen. "I'll send the doctor in as soon as she's available."

They nodded.

"And Gwen?" Stuart looked pointedly at her. "Be gentle with him, ok? He's just woken up from a coma. Remember, a hospital is a pretty public sort of a place."

Gwen flushed red, right to the roots of her hair, got up and sat herself demurely in the armchair. Peter fell about laughing.

.

* * *

.

.

_CrazyCoffeeKat, NeoTyson, Flam3nco, Curly Wurly Me, highlander348 - thanks for all of your continued enthusiasm, this one is for you. _

_CCKat - of course Spaceballs was formative in your existence as it was in mine, this must be why we appreciate one another's work! Thanks for being so keen on my Gwen developments! _

_NeoTyson - hope this chapter won't disappoint!? Glad you're hooked!_

_Flam3nco - YES, damsels in distress are so middle ages!_

_Curly Wurly Me - thanks dude. hoping your liking the increased cuddles now that P is awake!_

_highlander348 - you'll just have to wait and see. i know you'll let me know if you don't like it!_

_I wonder if you've given up on me, my old pals Harryfan94, Muffins4life, sallysally, xonatcat123, Jacqueline, KronosSlayer21 (sorry, I wasn't paying you out with the taciturn thing! I was just trying to be friendly!), Anti-Gravity111, Derp, ChrisSummers (this story wouldn't have gotten any further than ch7 if it weren't for you!), stonefieldloverandbowties, Kelly, KelianaLeFey, emikey87, Stinkfly3, C-Jam, CastielIsMyAngel, pandacuddles6, countrygirl1989, Kaleidokai, Lalaith Quetzalli, YoungLadybug, .792, lauren, pianogirl3746, kitkat, WinterRain36, my love addiction, Dragonskyt, sarahmichellegellarfan1, e, M.K. Teirney, kindleflame5, Life sucks- move on, Razgriz, paronomastic?_

_Are any of you still reading? Some of you I just lost a chapter ago, others of you I lost aaages back. Have any of you made it this far? Was it just that you got sick of Peter being in a coma - coz he's out now! Will that make it better? _


	21. Chapter 21

Peter could barely believe how good a bowl of cereal could taste. He sat sprawled across his hospital bed, Aunt May by his side, still dabbing with her hanky at the occasional tear of joy and relief. After Stuart had walked out that morning, Peter hadn't managed to coax an embarrassed Gwen back into the bed with him. Consequently, he'd gotten to his feet, yanked off the remaining electrodes, scooped her into his arms and plonked himself into the armchair with her in his lap.

A good hour or so of quality time had ensued between then and the arrival of the doctor in which the two of them did their best to catch up on the thirty-eight hours they'd been separated by Peter's extreme sleeping.

After Dr Hutchens came and inspected Peter and expressed her surprise at the fullness of his recovery, she left the pair of them yet again to their own devices.

Gwen yanked up one of her sleeves, inspecting her arm closely. She turned out her wrist and looked carefully at the underside of her bicep. Peter noticed her slowly shaking her head.

"You ok?"

She nodded. "But I shouldn't be. Last night when I pulled off my suit I had a huge bloody graze right down the length of this arm. I scraped it against a shard of cement when I was trying to force the doors open to get people out of the train carriages." She looked it over again. "Now there's nothing there."

"We heal fast, I guess," Peter shrugged.

"Nope, not this fast. Remember your eye, the day you first came to dinner? You had a massive bruise from the night before and it lasted the whole day."

"Yeah, I guess that's true. My wounds still used to take a little while to heal. Not nearly as long as a normal person, but they never just disappeared."

"And your head! I couldn't believe it when Stuart took off your dressing yesterday morning. There was nothing there! The night before there'd been such a huge gash! So much blood! Thirty or forty stitches!"

"What do you think is going on?"

Gwen scratched her head absent-mindedly, "I've got a theory, but I can't test it out til the next time one of us gets injured."

Peter smiled grimly, "At least you can be fairly certain you won't have to wait too long."

At eight fifteen, Gwen had kissed him soundly, left him with a stupid grin on his face and sashayed off to school with the less attractive promise of bringing him back all of the school work he'd be missing. About fifteen minutes after that, the bowl of cereal that Peter was so appreciating had arrived, just preceded by an overjoyed Aunt May summoned by a call from Gwen.

When Aunt May went off to fetch a coffee for each of them, Peter cranked up the volume on his overhead TV set. Like some sort of Hollywood actor, he'd tried to avoid watching his own press but he'd seen enough footage of himself to know that the person he was watching had a totally different style to him, a more graceful and less gangly freedom of movement. He looked a bit like a teenage male frog, Gwen moved more like some kind of cat. She was unsurprisingly beautiful in mid-air. The suit and mask obscured her face, her hair, the details of her form but it was unmistakeably her. He loved watching her in flight.

The news kept replaying the moment when Gwen appeared in the spotlights, sprinting up the stairs out of the evacuated subway station, clasping the injured girl tightly against her, getting her to safety and the medical attention she needed. Peter felt his chest expanding, fit to burst with pride. She was so brave and so strong. She didn't hesitate, she didn't turn away, not a thought for herself or her own safety.

_Gwen? You're amazing._

_Me? Stop it. If anyone sees me just sitting here by myself blushing they'll think I'm nuts._

_How long til you get back to me?_

_It's only first period._

_First period? That's it, I'm going back into my coma._

_You do that and it's over between us. I hate coma you._

_Strong emotions!_

_Coma you is the absence of you. I mean, sure, you're still devastatingly handsome, but I'm not superficial. I always go for brains over beauty, and I like a man with demonstrable brain activity that doesn't have to be measured on a monitor._

_Fair enough. Pretty sure I'd hate coma you, too. _

_Nah, you're plenty superficial._

_Ouch!_

_Be warned. I'm bringing you a swathe of bio._

_What would my life be without a swathe of bio?_

_Oh, I don't know, more time to make out with me?_

_Hey, I know, why don't you just leave that bio in your locker. We can always catch up on it later._

_Nice try, pal. I haven't even been to physics or chem yet._

_Please tell me we don't have English today._

_Or English! Period 4! We could read some scenes from Romeo and Juliet together?_

_Yes, that's it! Leave the Science at school and just bring me the Shakespeare._

_I thought you told me you were passionate about Science._

_Nah, what's Science ever done for me?_

_._

* * *

Aunt May returned accompanied by Dr Hutchens who was on her way back to authorise Peter's discharge.

"Now you will take it easy for me, won't you Mr Parker?" she said, not looking up from the clipboard on which she was scrawling.

"I'm feeling great, Dr Hutchens. How easy are we talking?"

"Well, truth be told, you _do_ seem to be totally healed but maybe don't push yourself for a week or so."

"Push myself?"

"No heavy lifting, no contact sports, no moving furniture."

"Well, darn. There go my plans for the week."

.

* * *

Settled back at home, Aunt May insisted he lie on the couch while she busied herself in the kitchen making him a sandwich.

"Aunt May?" he called after her, "Honestly? After all of this stuff I've put you through, at least let _me _make _you_ a sandwich!"

"Tomorrow," she called back cheekily. "You're back on sandwich duty tomorrow, Peter."

Ensconced on the lounge with his sandwich, a cup of tea and the remote, Peter flicked channels to see if he could find a station still replaying the footage of Gwen.

Suddenly he found himself privy to a conversation of Gwen's happening elsewhere. He flicked the mute button on the remote.

_'How's Parker? I heard he was in the hospital.'_

_'He's much better, Flash. Thanks for asking.'_

_'So, did you guys sort out that fight?'_

_'Fight?'_

_'You know, the night of the dance?'_

_'Oh, that wasn't a fight. We made it up before the night was out.'_

_'Oh. Coz, you know, next time you guys have a fight, I was kind of thinking maybe you and I could… you know.'_

_'Hey Flash?'_

_'Yeah?'_

_'Didn't I see you picking on Gordon again this morning?'_

_'Gordon?'_

_'You know, Peter's friend, Gordon. The guy Peter was trying to rescue from you that day you beat the crap out of him.'_

_'Er, yeah, maybe. But Peter and I have put all that behind us now.'_

_'Coz Peter turns out to be a heck of a lot stronger than you. But what about Gordon?'_

_'The guy's a nerd, Gwen.'_

_'Gordon's a nerd, Peter's a nerd, I'm a nerd, Flash.'_

_'What's your point?'_

_'Flash? Ever heard of redemption? How about we see some redemption from you, huh?'_

_'So, you don't think we'll go out?'_

Peter chuckled to himself but he could feel Gwen fuming.

_How do you even manage to make polite conversation with that clown?_

_Gwen, come on. Give the guy points for effort._

_I still haven't forgiven him for what he did to you that day._

_Well, keep in mind that I went and retaliated in true idiot style and nearly got myself expelled for it. Flash got his comeuppance._

_But learnt _nothing_, Peter._

_Sheesh, I'm glad he had me to deal with that day and not you!_

_Let's hope for Flash's sake it stays that way, huh?_

_Forget Flash! Please tell me you're coming home to me soon!_

_One class to go. You can keep yourself entertained for an hour, can't you?_

_You try entertaining yourself for an hour. I'm not even allowed to move furniture!_

_Huh?_

_Doctor's orders._

_Don't fret, Peter. In almost no time you're gonna have more homework than you can poke a stick at, no furniture removal required._

_Oh, awesome. You really know how to make my day._

_You're aunt's invited me to stay for dinner._

_Now that's more like it._

_._

* * *

After they'd finished fighting with Aunt May over the washing up they'd insisted on doing, Gwen and Peter cuddled up together in what had been Uncle Ben's favourite capacious armchair. It was still pretty early but they knew that in not too long, Gwen would have to go and make herself visible in the heart of the city.

"I want to come with you," Peter whispered. "I'm fine, really!"

Gwen shook her head. "This is for your aunt. There's no way she'll be ok with you disappearing tonight."

"Ok, so here's my bigger concern. How are you gonna sleep tonight without me to cuddle up to?"

Gwen grinned. "Now, _that_ is a genuine concern. I have no idea. Two nights spent snuggled up to you and I'm completely ruined for nights in my own bed."

Peter nodded exaggeratedly, "This is what I'm talking about! We're going to have a to find a way."

"Yeah," Gwen laughed, "Coz your aunt's really gonna be happy to let me crash here. I overheard that Oprah conversation, remember?"

"What about your mom?" Peter asked innocently. "Would she be amenable to us shacking up at your place?"

Gwen laughed sadly. "The memory of Captain George Stacy lives on at my place. There is _no_ way."

"Well, while you're out fighting crime, I'll have to put my mind to it."

"You do that."

.

* * *

It was nearly one in the morning when Gwen shimmied through the open window and landed crouched on Peter's bedroom floor.

"Am I awake?" he whispered. "Coz if not, it's about time I started having some dreams that begin like this."

Gwen, yanked off her mask and punched him not all that lightly in the arm.

"Ow."

"You deserved that."

"I have to admit, after our conversation earlier, I wasn't expecting to see you come sailing through my window tonight. Couldn't sleep?"

"Haven't been home yet," Gwen whispered. She reached for the back of her skin-tight top. "Turn around."

"Oh my god. What are you doing?" Peter asked breathlessly, jumping to all sorts of conclusions and only half turning away.

"All the way round, Peter. Let me assure you, this is _not_ what you think."

"Bummer," Peter chuckled.

She pulled the suit off over her head and fished on the floor for a sweater of Peter's to hold to her chest.

"Ok," she whispered, her back to him. "You can turn around."

Peter spun around and before he could think to admire the beauty of Gwen's naked back, he was confronted by a bloody gash that ran from her side all the way around to the base of her spine. It looked deep and painful.

"Gwen! Are you ok? How did this happen?" He reached out to touch her and heard her sharp intake of breath through clenched teeth.

"I chased this idiot through a building site. He'd held up an armoured car that was restocking an ATM. He shot one of the security guards and sprinted off with a few bags of cash." She gingerly reached her hand around to inspect the damage. "I got him. He's been read his rights and the whole bit. But I was left with this. I must have caught it on a jagged bit of metal or something."

"It looks pretty bad, Gwen."

"Anyway, remember how I said I had a theory that I wanted to test out?"

"Yeah, we really didn't have to wait long for an injury, did we? What do you need me to do?"

"Ok, I hope this isn't too gross. I just want you to hold me and maybe you can place your hands directly over the cut?"

Peter's look of concern lightened slightly into a wry smile. "So you're coming to bed with me after all?"

Gwen winced. "Guess so."

Peter threw back the covers of his bed and lay back in the stripes of light cast by the streetlight outside his window. Gwen, still holding Peter's sweater over her front, knelt on the bed and lowered herself on top of him.

Peter slid his hands across her delicious bare skin, trying desperately to keep things in perspective. He placed his hands gently over the line of the cut and rested his head back on the pillow. Just as she had done the previous two evenings, Gwen nestled her head into the crook of his shoulder.

"Is this ok?" he asked. "Are you comfortable?"

"Be nice if we were lying here like this under different circumstances, hey?"

"Oh man, Gwen, I could not agree with you more. Your skin is like silk."

"One day," she whispered.

.

* * *

A few hours later, while it was still dark, Gwen stirred.

"Are you awake?" she whispered.

"You think I could have slept with you lying on top of me like this? Besides, I've been getting plenty of sleep lately."

"I'm gonna get up, ok? I want to see if this worked."

"If what worked?"

Gwen rose to her feet, holding Peter's sweater against her. She turned her back to him. "How does it look?"

Peter sat up to look. His mouth fell open. "Gwen, there's nothing there! There's not even a line! Even the blood's all gone!"

Gwen spun around and beamed at him triumphantly. "You know what this means?"

Peter looked uncertainly into her beautiful face.

She deftly pulled Peter's sweater over her head, somehow managing to keep everything hidden, and plonked herself into his lap. She kissed him gently and wound her arms around his neck, leaning back slightly to look into his eyes.

"Peter, I hear your voice inside the quiet of my mind. I feel your emotions inside my own body. I can always sense where you are. Even when you're miles away from me, I can find you. And you know what?"

Peter looked into her eyes, awed. "Our bodies can heal one another."

Gwen nodded. "You didn't need to be in hospital. You just needed me."

.

* * *

.

.

_To my returning peeps, my crew, my band of brothers (sorry, too much Gunn from Angel and perhaps a bit too much Henry V):_

_Curly Wurly Me, NeoTyson, YoungLadybug, Life sucks - move on, Dragonskyt, CrazyCoffeeKat, Flam3nco, kitkat - thanks again for all the ongoing love and support. Welcome aboard, ash! Glad you're liking!_

_Many of you paid me some very, very kind (too kind?) compliments that I'm not sure that I deserve but I am feeling VERY chuffed. I kind of get the vibe that you guys enjoyed that last chapter? As a result, I'm hoping that you REALLY liked the chapter you just read. I think it's probably one of my faves. Did you like it? Fluffy enough for you? :)_

_I'd write more to all of you but I think you'd probably prefer me to channel my energy towards ch 22 which is causing me some issues... Loved your "logic dictates... plot dictates" stuff, Dragonskyt. If only it were as clear to me as it is to you!_

_It does seem like I have lost lots of readers along the way. Sad! If you're still out there from before, please, please let me know, it'll make my day to know I've retained an audience! ChrisSummers? KronosSlayer21? Anyone out there? I've realised that a couple of names haven't been appearing even though I've typed them in my little lists a few times - SkinneyLove and .792 I have no idea why your names kept disappearing? Anyway, I do love and appreciate you both! Are you still out there? I hope there's no one else I've left out!_


End file.
